Khila Amin
by Fiannalyn also Fianna
Summary: Haldir survives the tragedies of Helm's Deep. Reposted, co-authors Julie and Fianna
1. Chapter 1

This story was co written, as you see by Julie and I, our first go at writing together. I was off work and probably on too much medication, lol, from a hysterectomy, so the dream this came from was very vivid. Julie is the one who polished it, and together we added much of the story to make it what it is now, from the dream from which it began. It is an older story, but still one of my favorites. I decided to post it here, although it's been on Julie's site for ages, so those who might not have read it.

fianna

Author(s): Fianna and Julie

Disclaimer: The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of J R R Tolkien, the Tolkien Estate and Tolkien Enterprises. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Warnings: none

Haldir Pairing: Haldir and Female OC

Summary: Haldir travels to the White City for Aragorn's wedding, still suffering from his injuries at the battle at Helm's Deep. Keara is a healer, uncertain of her skills since the loss of her daughter. Can she do what the elves could not?

~*~

Chapter One: Beginnings

Perhaps my story starts the day I first set eyes upon the King. I watched him make his way through the steep, crowded streets of the White City, the cheers rebounding off the walls and buildings, the banners flapping briskly in the wind high above. Aragorn-or Elessar as he was now called-rode slowly, his eyes warm and kind as he gazed upon his people, greeting them with nods and smiles, and here and there a jest. He was a handsome, broad-shouldered man with strong arms and a controlled but pleasant manner that won him much respect. The heavy tapestry of his tunic fit snugly over his chest, and his well-shaped hands gripped those that reached for him with firmness.

As he drew near to me, I stepped back into the crowd, watching as he moved slowly past me and beyond. I had been in the city for only a short time, but since the moment of my arrival I had felt a strong urge to seek him out, though I could not fathom the reason why. It troubled me, this urge, for I knew not what to make of it. Now was certainly not the time, yet something told me it must be soon.

The crowd dispersed and I turned away, descending through the sloping streets of the city, avoiding the throngs of people who gathered to discuss daily business and the passage of their King. It was the happiest time in the memory of living men. Buildings were being repaired, the shadows and darkness of war swept away as the city renewed itself. Long lines of people waited for entry into the city, drawn from their war-torn homes to seek a new life in Minas Tirith.

As for myself, I knew not why I had come, only that I had been drawn to the city and was drawn to the King as well. I hurried down the main street, following the curving path as it descended through the various levels and gates of the city. I reached the outer wall of the second level and paused to look downward at the final gate, viewing the lines of weary travelers waiting patiently to be admitted.

I was about to turn and walk away when I heard a commotion from among the new arrivals. A woman struggled to reach the King, her plaintive cries shrill enough to attract his attention as he sat astride his horse, gazing out at the plains. The king's guards blocked her way, but Aragorn waved them away and dismounted, walking over to catch the woman as she sagged, weeping and distraught, at his feet.

From where I stood, I could not hear her words or his answer, but his concern was clearly visible in the early morning sunlight. She pointed back toward the caravan of wagons, and he gestured to his guards to bring forth what she asked. Unable to contain my curiosity, I went through the gate and walked along to stand within a short distance of the woman. A moment later, the guards returned with a litter bearing a small girl, her face slack and pallid with some illness or disease. My heart sank as the sobbing women begged the King to help her daughter. Aragorn crouched beside the girl, his healing powers well known, but I knew instinctively this was something he could not heal.

My own precious daughter had lain in just such a way. Unable to help her, I had watched, aching with grief, as she wasted away until death finally took her. Even now, my eyes watered with suppressed grief and self- hatred. I was a healer, yet I had been unable to save my own child! What more I could have done I did not know, nor even whether I still possessed the power to heal. But something drew me to this woman and her child, something relentless and powerful, as if I was dragged there by some force unseen.

I saw Aragorn frown and shake his head, his eyes filled with sorrow as the woman wept. Without thinking, I pushed my way between the people, catching the eye of the King as he glanced up. He gazed at me for a moment, taking in my shabby clothes and my unusual almond-shaped eyes.

"I can heal her," I said, before I realized what I said. The shock and self-doubt came an instant later when the words had already been spoken.

I saw the way the King assessed me for a moment before he nodded his approval. "Go ahead," he said in a low voice. "Perhaps you will succeed where I can only fail."

The girl's mother stared at me, her eyes wide with fear and desperation as I moved forward and knelt beside her daughter. With gentle hands, Aragorn pulled the woman away, his faith in me greater than my own faith in myself. How dared I make this claim? This child would be the first I attempted to heal since my daughter's death.

Tears welled in my eyes, stinging them as I leaned over this poor child, my dark, waist-length hair shielding my expression from the King. Sending prayers to the Valar, I placed a hand on the young girl's forehead, my eyes closing as I felt the cool clamminess of her skin. Suddenly, I could feel her pulse beating in time with my own, and my heart leaped with the knowledge that perhaps this time I might be successful. Remembering my prayers as my own child lay beneath my hands, I dared not hope too much, yet already I was feeling the first, faint invasion of her pain into my body.

Again, I thought of my own child. So gladly would I have taken on her pain! So fervently had I wished to save her that I had been willing to give up my own life for hers. But still she had died. It seemed the Gods had not deigned to hear my pleas. Too late. I must have prayed too late.

Yet the ways of the Valar were strange, for this time it seemed my prayers were heard. I shuddered as this child's illness crept into me, nearly retching as the pain and sickness crawled into my body like a living, malignant force. Terrible, it was terrible, like nothing I had ever experienced before with any other healing. I do not know how long it lasted, but I knew when it was over. I opened my eyes, my vision swimming as I removed my hand from the child's brow.

I tried to stand and fell back to my knees, and at once felt Aragorn's strong arm reach down to brace me. Look, he said. Turn and look what you have done. I could not refuse. Slowly, I turned back to see a pair of green eyes blinking up at me, the bloom of health already restored to her childish cheeks. My eyes widened with shock, then I touched my temple as the dizziness assailed me.

Weeping with joy, the woman clasped her daughter to her bosom while Aragorn assisted me to my feet. I staggered, and the woman stared at me, not understanding the toll her daughter's healing had taken upon my strength. Yet somehow I knew that Aragorn understood, and as I nodded to her, he pulled me away from the gawking crowd.

"Come," he said quietly. "You need to rest."

His words were distant, almost muted, for I was feeling very faint. Stubbornly, I tried to shake off the weakness that permeated my body, and he urged me down upon a nearby bench. Gasping, I bent my head over my knees as the pain gripped my stomach and my head swam with nausea. When I was able to drink, he gave me water from a nearby well, and although I only took a sip, it helped enough so that I was able to understand the questions he was asking.

"How do you heal?" he asked in an urgent tone. "Where did you get this gift?"

I shook my head, unable to answer. "A gift from the Valar," I replied, knowing it would not be enough for him. "I have had it all my life. I know not why or how it works, nor can I promise that it will work." I did not tell him that I had never healed sickness of this strength before, nor felt the pain that I was feeling now. Something had changed.

Aragorn's gaze stayed steady upon my face. "Your skill equals the magic of the elves," he said so softly that I could barely hear. He studied me, his face still and thoughtful, watching as I leaned against the white stone of the wall. I shook my head, slightly amused by his statement. To equal the skill of the elves would indeed be a strong magic. As the thought took hold, I raised a shaky hand to cover my eyes. Could he be right? Had my healing ability increased? And if so, how could it be? And why?

He proceeded to offer me a place in his court, but I refused. I struggled to my feet, unable to bear his penetrating gaze any longer though the weakness brought a disturbing tremble to my knees. At this moment my sole wish was to seek my bed and sleep. Forcing a smile, I thanked the King once more for his kindness and fled his presence, but as I slipped into the crowd I could feel his eyes on my back.

Ill and nauseated, I stumbled through the streets until at last I reached the back alley where I took shelter, by now so weak I had to crawl the last few steps on my hands and knees. I collapsed upon my tiny bed, shivering until at last I fell into a dark slumber that lasted for a day.

I awoke in the darkness of early morning, the bedclothes wet with perspiration, but my mind was clear and my body recovered. I rose, shaking with hunger, and searched for the remnants of the prior day's repast. The food was old and stale, but I ate it anyway, then smoothed the wrinkles from my dress. The gray wool had seen many days and had grown tattered during my long journey on foot to Minas Tirith, but it was all I had.

I walked out into the silent city, making my way to the walls just as the first rays of the sun lit the horizon, the red streaks of dawn glowing over what was left of the darkness of Mordor. Leaning against the chill of the white stone, I sat and thought of the young girl, wondering if she was truly well. I leaned on my hands, breathing in the cool morning air, feeling the damp mists dissipate as the sun began to warm the stones. I could hear the flap of the banners in the strong east wind, and the sounds of the guards echoing faintly on the walls below. Slowly, the city came alive as its people woke to start their day.

I had just decided to take my leave when a small hand tugged on my skirt, jerking it slightly to attract my attention. I turned around to find the small girl in front of me, her cheeks still blushed with good health and her green eyes twinkling in the morning sun. She smiled shyly, and I saw her mother standing a few feet away.

As I met the woman's gaze, she came forward and caught my hand, but instinctively I tried to pull away, uncomfortable with her gratitude. Grief for my own child still lay heavily on my heart, yet as my eyes began to sting, the girl took hold of my hand and pulled me down to her level. With the innocence of the very young, she smiled and wiped away the single tear that rolled down my cheek. Then she hugged me, and I felt strangely comforted as her small arms tightened about my neck.

She said her name was Gwinnyth, and I smiled because it fit her well. The little sprite's grin warmed my heart, lessening my grief with her sweetness. Her mother begged to give me something in payment for the healing and though I refused, she pressed a small basket into my hands. Still hesitating, I looked inside to see fresh bread and fruit. Such things were still hard to find, and I frowned and tried to return it, but the woman shook her head and returned to her stall, which I now saw that I had passed unknowingly in my quest to see the sunrise.

The child sat by my side while I nibbled on the fruit, both of us watching the sun cast the White City aglow in all its splendor. Her quiet chatter soothed me. For months I had been lost in grief, but now I wondered if perhaps I had begun to find my way again. Could I heal once more? Would my success continue? I did not know, but I found comfort in the small hand tucked into mine.

* * *  
I found myself drawn to those who were sick, the part of the city that housed them nearly becoming my home. Of Aragorn I saw little, but his regard for me was known, and I was often led to those he could not heal. Since his skills were great, I often wondered how he failed to prevail, but the evils of war and Sauron still held many in its grip. I knew the King's thoughts were elsewhere as the days flew by, for he watched over the plain as frequently as I did, though for a different reason. I knew he waited for her, the one he loved, and my heart was touched by his devotion and strength of spirit, which did not lessen with the passing of the days and weeks. He knew she would come, and his eyes were often fixed upon the far- off place where she would first appear.

He spoke to me rarely, but I was honored to know that he still thought of me. I knew this was so because each time I completed a healing, I would find someone waiting to assist me back to my room. Aragorn knew of the weakness that overcame me, and made sure that if necessary I would be carried through the streets to my bed.

As people continued to stream into the city, rumors trickled in. She was coming, but from afar, and though the time must have passed slowly for the King, each day his eyes were bright with joy. Today he sat astride his horse, his guard waiting patiently while the King gazed over the plains to the hills far in the distance. Some of his friends from the war had already arrived, a dwarf and several hobbits, but on this day one more arrived. I saw Aragorn's posture change at the approach of a lone horseman. The King seemed excited, and I looked more closely to observe the newcomer, whose waist-length blond hair flowed behind him as he thundered over the plain.

Soon he arrived, his leap from the horse telling me he was an elf even before I saw his ears. He greeted Aragorn, his feet hardly seeming to touch the ground as he unabashedly hugged the King. They laughed and turned, and I stared in awe at the beauty of this elven creature, the first of his kind that I had ever seen.

They walked through the gates, the King and the elf, their conversation quiet as they made their way into the city. I turn and watched as they went past, studying the elf as he moved gracefully beside the King. Braided in the back, his pale hair hung over his quiver, and I noticed that his long, curved bow and the ivory handles of his knives nearly blended with its color. To my surprise, he must have sensed my gaze, for his head turned suddenly in my direction. I looked away, but not before the striking blue eyes met mine and he smiled.

When I dared to look again, they had passed beyond my sight, and I sighed and moved back into the crowd, knowing that at some point the King would mention my name. My desire to remain unnoticed was quickly becoming impossible, which often made it hard to find the solitude I needed to ponder what was happening to me. Oddly, I felt like I was waiting for something. More and more often I found myself on the walls of the city, watching, always watching. But for what or whom?

The elf found me there one day. Still weak from a recent healing, I was thrown into his grasp when I was knocked over by some children pressing their way through the crowd. His strong hands steadied me and set me upright, his blue eyes curious as they rested on my face. He must have seen my pallor, for he frowned and wrapped an arm around me, and lead me to a bench.

He spoke to me softly, his voice a low murmur in my ear. He told me that his name was Legolas and that he had heard about me and my skills. He also spoke of his admiration for what I did and of his concern for my health. I sat, listening in wonder, amazed that someone like him would care about my welfare.

He helped me to my home and when I turned at the door, I saw that he still studied me. He was tall, forcing me to look up at him as he spoke again of his worry on my behalf. He spoke with conviction, but despite this I continued with the healing work I felt called to do. I had often been told that I was stubborn, and I suppose Legolas found me so, but he did not reproach me. When I was well enough, I went to the walls, and I often found him near, offering companionship should I wish it. I still did not know for what or whom I waited, but I did not speak of this to him, and he did not seem to mind.

At last the day I waited for arrived, although I did not know it then. It was cold and gray, the clouds hovering overhead, threatening to wash the city with moisture. I hugged my shawl around my shoulders and gazed out over the dreary plain, the wind whipping my hair about my face and in my eyes. Just lately, my melancholy had returned, my thoughts dark as I dwelled upon memories of my child and her death.

On this day I felt strangely compelled to go farther than I had ever gone before, and I found myself slowly climbing the hill, following the wagons that made their way into the higher sections of the city. I knew not where I placed my feet and was surprised to find myself at the gate of the High Court, staring in awe at the Fountain at the base of the White Tower of Ecthelion. The guards eyed me curiously, unsure whether to allow me entrance as, without thinking, I took a small step forward. Then, from some location unseen, the elf appeared, and the guards drew back as Legolas took my hand and led me into the courtyard.

Even here, in this splendid setting, I was drawn to the walls, the height here providing me with a much grander view than from below. The clouds were clearing, and just as the sun revealed its face, Legolas pointed toward the distant hills, perceiving something I could not. I laughed, reminding him that I could not see as far as he could, then a moment later, excited shouts behind us told me what I should have guessed.

She drew near. I turned back to the wall and leaned forward as Legolas spoke quietly to me, relating more about Arwen Evenstar and her beauty and how she was to wed Aragorn. She comes with her kin, he explained, and I smiled at the joy I knew Aragorn must feel. The elf also smiled, and told me of the celebration that would ensue.

I leaned over the wall, trying vainly to see what he described while I imagined the splendor of what was to come. He left my side for a moment, and I gazed out over the plain, now seeing the movement upon the horizon as it became gradually visible to my human eyes. I turned, startled, as Legolas came back and touched my elbow.

"Come," he said. "We will ride together."

He had brought a magnificent white stallion with him, which we rode through the streets to the lowest gate of the city. Once there, I gave him my thanks, then slipped off the horse, ignoring his slight frown. I knew not why I was unwilling to be near him when the elves arrived, but I slipped into the crowd and hurried to my favorite perch on the wall. The crowd gathered around me as I watched the slow approach of the procession, the shadows lengthening as the day progressed. By early evening it had halted, the long line of elves brightening the plain with their glow.

Aragorn had long watched them from his seat astride his horse, but he now leaped to the ground and strode through the city gates to greet the two elves who led the procession. Their likeness in features named them twins, and they greeted Aragorn as one they knew well. Behind them rode two tall elves, one blond, the other dark and brooding. Aragon nodded in greeting, and their faces softened as they looked upon him.

Behind them rode more dark-haired elves, their features elegant and smooth, but Aragorn passed them by as he headed for another pair. Torches were lit, but seemed unnecessary as Aragorn strode quickly to a regal elven couple on two white horses. His bow to them spoke of vast admiration and respect, and I strained my eyes to see them better. He lifted the elven woman from her mount, smiling as she kissed him on both cheeks. The male elf also dismounted, and greeted Aragorn with seeming fondness.

Aragorn spoke with them for a moment, then the elven woman turned to point behind her. I stared in wonder at these elves as they glided closer to where I stood. These two seemed to electrify the air, and I tensed as the elven woman turned in my direction, filled with the oddest feeling that she was looking straight at me.

She was very beautiful, with hip-length silvery hair, and though I could not see her eyes, I knew they would be blue and that they would bore right into me. For a long moment, those eyes seemed locked on me, then she turned as the elven lord spoke to her, his gaze moving over the walls. I had stepped back, but now I moved forward once more, my gaze drawn to where Aragorn walked slowly beside a tall, solidly-built elf with long, silver blond hair. My breath caught in my throat as I stared, mesmerized by this magnificent creature.

I had thought Legolas handsome, but this elf stole my breath away. It startled me to realize he walked stiffly for one of his kind, and my mind grew troubled as I realized why this must be so. Aragorn slid an arm under the elf's elbow as he faltered slightly, the frustration on his face evident even from where I stood. The whispers around me caught my attention, revealing the name of this elf.

Haldir, March Warden of Lothlórien.

It was a name I had lately heard often as the rumors of the elves' approach swept the city. Many had wondered if he would attend, the word of his great injury in battle strong upon their lips. Perhaps men would have prevailed in the recent war of the ring, but the elves' arrival at the battle of Helm's Deep had certainly assured it. The great elven leader, Haldir, had been severely wounded, and only recently had Aragorn discovered he still lived.

I turned back to the plain, looking frantically for the injured elf, and saw that he and Aragorn had parted, and that Aragorn had reached the end of the procession and now stood before the last two elves. One of these, a dark-haired elven lord of noble bearing, sat tall in the saddle of his horse and carried a long scepter in his hand. Beside him, upon a small gray palfrey, sat a beautiful elven maiden.

I knew at once she must be Aragorn's love, for even from here I could see the way they smiled upon each other. Yet the formalities were observed; the elven lord dismounted, bowed slightly to Aragorn, and handed him the scepter. He then assisted his daughter from her mount and officially placed the hand of Arwen Evenstar into the hand of Aragorn.

As the King led his bride-to-be toward the gates of the White City, I searched again for the injured elf, Haldir. I found him finally, and watched the way he leaned against another who resembled him enough to be his brother. On his other side, there was another elf, perhaps a second brother, who also reached to steady him. My chest felt strangely tight as I saw the way Haldir forced himself to straighten, pushing away the hands that offered assistance despite his obvious pain. His striking features were set and stiff, hinting at the depth of a suffering I could only imagine.

Then the three elves moved from my sight, and I spun around to lean my back against the wall, my heart beating wildly, my emotions in a turmoil. The image of the proud and injured elf, his waist-length blond hair gleaming in the light of the torches, seemed irrevocably burned into my brain. Without knowing why, I felt my time of waiting was over. What did it mean?

* * *

That very night Aragorn wedded the beautiful elf who had long held his heart. Seeing them afterward as they rode through the streets to mingle with their people, I leaned wistfully against the cool stones of a nearby wall, silently wishing them happiness and praying they would have it. The King slowly made his way along the torch-lit streets, his eyes taking turns between his new wife's face and the cheering crowds of his people. I smiled as he caught sight of me, then saw the way his smile faded and his eyes held mine.

At once I knew why.

I began to turn away, only to see that he had dismounted and was pushing his way through the crowd while the elf who was his wife stared at me oddly. I braced myself as he came up to me, knowing what he would say, what he would ask.

"You saw him," Aragorn said to me, his voice low and urgent.

I nodded mutely. There was no need to ask of whom he spoke.

He looked at me, taking in my stricken expression. "Can you help him? Even months after the battle, he still suffers great pain. Elven magic has been unable to fully heal him."

"So I saw," I whispered, my lips dry with dread.

He gazed at me for a long moment. "Will you try to help him?" he asked again, knowing full well the cost to me. "If you do not, he will live forever with this pain."

Haldir was not sick, but injured, I told him, and his injury was grave. I feared to try, for I knew not if my skill would counteract what the elves had already done. What if I made him worse? I knew my face was pale as I spoke, for in truth my longing to heal the elf had already passed the boundaries of all reason. Along with that longing, however, had come a resurgence of my doubts.

Aragorn stared at me, looking as though he meant to argue.

Before he could do so, I turned and fled, knowing I needed more time to think this over. So many had I healed, but I had never touched an elf. Dare I risk it? How could I live with myself if I did not agree to try? And what would happen if I did?


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: Restoration

I sat huddled in my room, staring at the walls as the compulsion to seek out the King grew stronger every moment I denied it. Like the day with the young girl, I soon found myself drawn unwillingly toward the heights and the White Tower of Minas Tirith. Again, I faced the gates, but this time the guards smiled and opened them wide for my entrance.

Inside, I looked down at the tattered gown I wore, ashamed I had no better, then gazed upward at the great steps leading to the tower and the small tree that blossomed so beautifully in front. Hesitating, I sat on a large stone near the tree, my heart so heavy I could not bear to go on. What could I, a simple healer, do that the elves could not? I laughed without humor, my arms wrapped around myself in an effort to thwart my doubts and lack of confidence. All I had to cling to was the image of the injured elf and my own stubbornness.

I finally gave in and started up the stairs to the tower, when to my surprise Aragorn appeared, striding down the steps to meet me halfway. With a relieved look, he took my hand and led me to the top, but I balked as he made to bring me inside. My cheeks flushed red, and he stared at me in confusion until he saw me glance at my dress and realized the source of my embarrassment. With a smile, he bade me to wait, and disappeared into the vast confines of the hall.

I stood uncomfortably, not knowing what he expected of me, then a moment later he reappeared and I understood. My blush grew as I realized he had brought his wife, Arwen, to meet me, yet she smiled and welcomed me kindly, and touched my arm with her hand.

I turned to the King and spoke the reason I had come, and he nodded and blessed me for my courage, kissing the tips of my fingers in a gesture of sincere gratitude. As I turned to leave, the Queen stopped me with another touch of her hand. A handmaiden I could be if the desire was mine. I shook my head and thanked her, but I could not accept. My time in the White City neared its end, though how I knew this I could not say. They watched me leave, and I hurried down the stair, having agreed to go to the injured elf upon the following morn.

* * *

I woke the next day in restless dread, and as I dressed, I stared into my own eyes in the small mirror above my bed. Why should I fear? And was the fear for him?

I left my room and moved slowly down the street, oblivious to the crowd around me. Someone pulled at my skirt and I flinched, then saw that it was only Gwinnyth. She smiled and placed her hand in mine, and I felt strangely calmed as she walked with me toward the gate of the city.

I stopped outside the gate, gazing upon the vast plain now littered with hundreds of colorful tents. The elves had chosen to remain out here, and I could see quite a number of them moving gracefully among the tents. Gwinnyth stood with me while I hesitated, wondering where to go, then I heard Aragorn's voice, and turned.

He would take me to speak with the Lady Galadriel before I made my offer to Haldir. The King's frown spoke of his worry that the proud elf might refuse my help. With a sigh, I knelt beside the child, Gwinnyth, and she hugged me as I said farewell. Then I rose, my heart beating wildly in my chest as I thought of what was to come.

Aragorn led me through the maze of bright tents to one of silk and gold, larger than the rest, its standards waving high in the morning breeze. We stopped before the sentinels, and I could not help staring at the elves who stood so tall, their long, silvery hair glinting in the sunlight. Their greenish black tunics contrasted starkly with the tent, and the presence of their weapons served to remind me who they guarded.

Their piercing gazes rested on me as Aragorn spoke to them in the Elvish tongue. One sentinel slipped inside, and I bit my lip, my uncertainty growing as the moments passed. Then the tent door opened, and the Lothlórien queen stood before me, tall and elegant and still, her ancient eyes glittering like stars in a brilliant blue sky.

She did not speak, but instead considered me, taking in my attire, my hair, my face. At last, she waved me inside, and I struggled to gather my thoughts, knowing my words to her must convey the strength of my beliefs. I bowed as she sat slowly, her Lord at her side, and as I straightened from my bow, their extreme beauty, grace and fairness struck me anew. I felt my nervousness increase, for neither of them had yet spoken a word.

Aragorn stepped to my side. "She cannot read you," he explained, adding that it had been a very long age since Galadriel had been unable to break the barriers on either elven or human minds.

Astonished, I returned my gaze to hers, my chin lifting in an effort to hide my intense discomfort. She did not smile, but I sensed she was amused, then someone entered the tent and I saw her eyes shift. Oddly, without even looking, I knew it was not him, but someone close to him, and we turned, Aragorn and I, to greet the elf who stood behind us.

He was tall and slim, with ice blue eyes that studied me while betraying no sign of his thoughts. When he bowed to the Lord and Lady, his eyes never left my face. I straightened my spine, instinct telling me this one doubted me strongly, and kept my chin held high. At that moment, I realized that my apprehension was gone, replaced by an overpowering desire to persuade them that I could do it, that I could heal the one they cared about, the injured elf, Haldir.

I turned back to the Lady, and explained that I was nothing more than what I seemed, that my only thought was to ease the pain of her March Warden. I told her I had healed many, and that my skills had grown of late, though I knew not the reason why. When I finished speaking, she inclined her head and told me she did not object, but that it was not her choice to make. The elf behind me left as silently as he had entered, and Galadriel rose and led me from her tent.

We walked the short distance to Haldir's tent, which was similar to hers but smaller in size. Inside, it seemed dim. A low cot sat along one wall, and strewn about the floor were beautiful woven carpets that softened my footsteps as I stopped just inside the door. He lay on the cot, one knee bent, one arm flung upward to cover his eyes. His long silvery hair cascaded over the edge of the cot, beckoning my gaze to its incredible beauty. The elf with the ice blue eyes sat beside him on a chair, and another who resembled him stood near a small table set with refreshments. I was certain they were Haldir's brothers, though I did not ask.

Galadriel moved over to Haldir and took the seat quickly vacated by the icy elf. Very gently, she reached out and touched her March Warden's arm, speaking softly to him in words I could not understand. Though he removed his arm from his eyes and looked at her, his reply was terse. She frowned and glanced over at me, and I knew he had refused.

My heart sank, and I began to turn away when he spoke again. I turned back and watched as he sat up stiffly, shaking off the hands that thought to help. Although he hid it well, I could see the suffering in his eyes. Had I misunderstood? Was it possible that he would permit the attempted healing?

Aragorn caught my arm, concern for me etched upon his face. I must be careful, he whispered. The elf could deal with more pain than I could imagine. I must not go too far. Understanding, I nodded, and he released me.

Haldir sat with his elbows on his knees, his head raised proudly to look at me as I approached him. His penetrating gray gaze traveled over me, taking in my appearance, and I was caught off-guard by the intensity of my reaction to him.

"So you think you can heal me?" he asked, his voice cold and slightly hostile.

I looked at him, feeling both intimidated and attracted to him, and wanting desperately to hide both emotions from all elven eyes. "I can only try," I said bravely. "I have had many successes, but I have also failed."

He frowned and glanced at Galadriel, who slowly nodded her head in some silent message. He sighed, and returned his gaze to me. "Very well, but I would have your name first."

"Keara," I said steadily.

"Keara," he repeated, stretching out the syllables, and on his lips it sounded like a caress. His eyes moved over me once more in a different sort of assessment, one that was disturbingly male, but what he thought of me I did not know and tried not to care.

I could not bear to have him watch me while I worked, and I somehow summoned the courage to tell him so. The small curve at the corners of his mouth did nothing to relieve my tension, and I breathed a sigh of relief when he finally closed his eyes. Yet his brows were furrowed, telling me that he did not like it, that he would prefer to observe me. This elf was not one who easily yielded control to others.

My hand trembled as I reached out and touched his forehead, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath my fingertips. For a moment I felt nothing, and I moved my hand until my palm came in full contact with his flesh. I closed my eyes and found his pulse, its slow, steady beat allowing me to make the necessary connection with him.

For a moment nothing happened, and then the gates burst open and I gasped at the enormity of the suffering that rushed out at me. I felt him stiffen, though from pain or in response to my gasp, I did not know. Exerting my authority, I pushed him down upon the cot with my free hand, my other hand still pressed to his brow as I half leaned, half fell on top of him. Dimly, I knew that his brothers leaped to their feet, but Galadriel must have reassured them, for they did nothing, made no protest.

Haldir lay beneath me while I shuddered violently. His strength of will and capacity to endure pain shocked me, and I struggled to hold my own against the agonizing assault. The totality of months of suffering, both physical and emotional, funneled into me, and I groaned aloud, wondering how he could have continued to survive. Vaguely, I knew that he had wrapped an arm around me as if to offer comfort or support.

A great, howling wall of darkness encircled me as I accepted more and more of his suffering, an almost unendurable onslaught for my human body to take. Distantly, I understood that it was as Aragorn warned, that I could not complete the healing in a single day. I must release Haldir or be lost.

I pulled away, forcing myself back to full consciousness, opening my eyes to see the room in a hazy wash of color. Beneath me, he lay still, and I knew he was unaware of me or anything else. I removed my hand from his brow and tried to rise, only to collapse at once to the rug as everything went black.

* * *

I awoke to dreadful, racking pain, worse than anything I had ever encountered or imagined. I could hear furious, heated whispers nearby, and I turned my head, blinking to clear away the swirling fog that misted my vision. I saw that Aragorn spoke to both of Haldir's brothers while Galadriel stood listening to their rising voices. Their language I could not understand, but I was certain they argued over me. They all turned and looked at me when I struggled to sit up.

As Aragorn came over to assist me, I realized I was no longer in Haldir's tent, but where I was I could not tell nor care. The elf's pain had settled into every bone, muscle and joint in my body, and I bent nearly double, gasping in agony as the King leaned over me, his hands on my arms.

"We should leave now," he said in a low voice.

I shook my head, unable to comprehend, but he did not release his hold on me. Struggling to breathe, I stared blankly at him until his words finally sank in.

"He will want to see you," Aragorn said, his tone full of warning.

I knew suddenly that Haldir had not been told how I healed, and that he would be furious the moment he realized the full extent of what I suffered on his behalf. Aragorn wished to shield me from having to face the elf's wrath. And I strongly suspected he also wished to shield Haldir from a truth that would be a great burden to him.

I looked into Aragorn's concerned face and saw that I was right. Again, I blinked and shook my head, trying to clear my vision, and was startled when the two brothers suddenly stiffened and left the tent. Aragorn's sigh of frustration told me what was coming.

I pushed Aragorn away, forcing away the darkness at the edge of my vision only with the sheer strength of my will. Shaking like a leaf in the wind, I stood and braced myself as Haldir thrust his way into the tent. With a grace I had not seen in him before, he stalked toward me, and I lifted my eyes to look at him, hoping the pain I suffered would not be evident to him.

His hard gray eyes searched my face, and he reached out to grip my chin. Although his fingers were not ungentle, his narrowed gaze and thinning lips told me I hid nothing, and that he was indeed very angry. He understood far more than Aragorn what I had put myself through, and what toll it was taking on me.

"Why?" he demanded roughly. "Why did you do it?"

As he released my chin, I raised it defiantly and tried to smile, tried to make what I had done seem ordinary. "Because this is what I do," I told him. "And I am not yet finished with you."

He gave a derisive snort, then reached out quickly, catching me just as I lost my precarious hold on my balance. I could not breathe, I needed air, and everything hurt so much. Still struggling to hide all this, I pushed futilely against his chest, yet he drew me closer and I could not stop him. Tears welled in my eyes, tears I knew he saw and for which he blamed himself.

"You will not touch me again," he stated, his tone inflexible. "I would not put you through this a second time, nor even a first time had I known the facts."

I shook my head. "Nay, you must not refuse. You must listen to me."

Somehow I found the strength to explain, to tell him that I had not only taken on his pain, but found what caused it. Healed him partially the elves had, but not completely. The shattered nerves were not repaired, and as he held me and my knees gave out, I told him what I had learned. He would never raise his bow again if I did not finish what I started. The strength he needed would never return.

His face went white. Even so, he tightened his hold on me, attempting to exert his dominance, yet I pushed him away and to my relief, he finally yielded. Lightheaded and dizzy, I staggered back, and was caught by Aragorn just as the darkness began to wash over me. I begged him to take me home, the last words I would speak for some time.

* * *

I rose from my bed, slowly testing each joint, bone and muscle to see if it was safe to move. Some minutes passed before I noticed the gown spread across my chair. Frowning, I looked at it, then crossed to my door and peered outside to find Legolas sitting on my doorstep. I stepped back in surprise, and asked him how long he had been there.

He rose gracefully, concern darkening his blue eyes. Four days, he said. Four days I had lain unconscious. Now and then he had entered my room to look at me, to be sure that I was not in need. Aragorn had sent others, but Legolas told me he had sent them away. He told me that I had woken several times, that he had fed me soup, but I did not remember this.

Shocked that it had been so long, I thanked the elf for his care, and moved back into my room, leaving the door open so he might enter if he chose. He followed me, watching as I sat upon my bed and stared in consternation at the wine red gown.

"Who sent this?" I asked him.

Legolas smiled. "It is a gift from Galadriel."

"I do not accept payment for my services." I knew my voice made it clear that I did not want the garment. I was startled by his shocked expression.

"You cannot refuse a gift from the Lady!"

I pondered this, and realized that in this case I had no choice but to accept.

Then he told me that Haldir had come while I was unconscious, that it was he who had delivered the gown. Legolas had not let him into my room, and for this I was grateful, but Haldir had made him agree to send word of my condition, which Legolas had done each day thus far. Galadriel's March Warden had been most insistent, Legolas added with a glimmer of a smile.

He left and I dressed, pulling the unfamiliar garment over me, amazed by the exactness of the fit, which hugged my figure in a way my gray gown had not. Then the dizziness assailed me and I forgot the gown. I was not well. The pain was gone, but my body was not yet fully recovered. I knew, however, that I could afford to wait no longer to finish what I had begun.

I walked through the city with Legolas beside me, his quiet arguments only solidifying my decision to proceed. My steps were slow, but I forced myself to continue, ignoring the pervasive weakness that threatened to defeat me. We passed through the gate, and I paused as several nearby elves turned to stare. Legolas took my arm, reluctant for me to continue, but I pulled away, dragging my feet forward. I knew my friend feared for me, but I, in turn, feared for that other elf who might spend eternity without his strength if I did not complete his healing.

I heard them before I saw them, hidden between the brightly colored tents, their voices sounding cheerful though I did not know the meaning of their words. I had paused before Galadriel's tent when all three of them appeared. Haldir's brothers stopped abruptly upon seeing me, but Haldir continued walking, his movements graceful and deliberate. His gaze slid over me quite carefully before he glanced at Legolas, who coolly returned the look before he reached out to grip the March Warden's shoulder. Legolas spoke with courtesy, but I could feel the tension between the two elves.

I studied the three elven brothers. Haldir returned my look, but I could not read his expression, while his two brothers looked concerned. I stepped closer to Haldir, ignoring the fluttering in my chest as I met those glittering gray eyes.

"Why have you come?" he asked.

"You know why I have come," I said, with a boldness I did not feel. "To complete what we began."

His dark brows pulled together in a frown. "It is too soon for you, Keara."

"And it could well be too late for you," I replied with stubbornness. "This healing must be completed soon if it is to be successful. But it is your choice. You can live forever as you are, or allow me to help you to regain your strength. I can do it."

His eyes narrowed, and I trembled inwardly while I waited for him to speak. What would happen to me I could not say, but I would not tell him that. I only knew that I badly wanted to heal him, that for him, I would suffer the pain gladly. My heart trembled with the knowledge that a part of me had already been lost to him, but this I would not admit even to myself.

I could see him struggle with his decision, and felt a huge weight lift from my shoulders when he finally nodded. He grasped my arm above the elbow, gently escorting me along with him toward his tent. Enjoying the sensation of his hand, I pushed away my dread and fear of what was to come.

As before, he sat upon the cot, and I noted with pleasure how extraordinarily graceful he now was, how elegant in his movements. His brothers accompanied us, their concerned and quiet murmurs unintelligible to my ear.

He could not know what it cost me to lay my hand once more upon his brow, to feel the warmth of his skin again, to seek his pulse and allow it to beat in time with mine. To my surprise, he looked into my eyes and gripped my waist as I drew closer, and it broke my concentration for a moment. Then he sighed and closed his eyes, yielding control to me.

Perhaps it was best that I was not prepared for the connection when it hit me. His body jerked, his brothers catching him as he fell back, while I ended up half on my knees and half on top of him. Again, he somehow found the strength to wrap an arm around me before he lost consciousness; perhaps this is part of what saved me, I do not know.

I had thought I knew the depths of his suffering, but as I had hidden much from him, so had he hidden much from me. A secret cache of pain still resided in him, and I shuddered and gasped as it battered me, illogically seeking refuge by curling my body close to his. Stubbornly clinging to my purpose, I pushed my way through the shadows, seeking that which I needed to find. My mind grew muddled, yet by the grace of the Valar, I was able to complete my task before I released him.

For me, it was an instant too late; I floundered helplessly, but felt myself being swept over the edge into a vast black void. I knew nothing. Darkness surrounded me, chilled me with its coldness. No light, no gray glimmer guided me. I flailed in fear as I felt the shadows engulfing me. I was lost and terrified.

How could I find my way back? I sobbed as the heaviness of the shadows bore down on me, cowering as I tried to control my fear. The thought that I might never see the light again horrified me. I wrapped my arms around myself, searching for something real, something to light my way.

A thought grew in my mind, and like one who was drowning, I clutched at it. The thought grew, took the form of a vision and gradually became substantial, real enough to touch and hold. It had breath and life and depth and solidity. It spoke to me in words I did not know, calling to me, calling me back to the light.

The vision I gripped so tightly, the vision that kept me from falling into the chasm that would never have let me go, was of a tall, silver- haired, gray-eyed elf.

Him.


	3. Chapter 3

To everyone who has reviewed this story so far, a huge, heartfelt thank you!! The authors appreciate your support very much!! The story will consist of 7 chapters plus an epilogue.

~*~

Chapter 3: Choices

I was not in my own room. Light touched my eyelids, the warmth of the sun's rays flickering in moving shadows. I could feel the warm breeze caressing my cheek, fluttering a strand of my hair to tickle the sensitive flesh. I cracked open first one eye and then the other, looking through my lashes as I cautiously sent out my senses to investigate my surroundings.

I lay in a tent, the sides of which had been rolled up so that only a sheer, gauzy fabric fluttered in the breeze. Something in the air told me it was morning, for it was cool and fresh. I shifted my gaze, and saw Haldir sitting near me, watching me with those unfathomable gray eyes of his. Watching and assessing. And guarding.

I was weak and could not even speak to him. I merely returned his look, taking in his still posture, the way he sat with one elbow on the arm of the chair, his chin resting on the curled index finger of his fist. Our gazes connected for a moment, then I closed my eyes again and fell immediately back into a deep slumber.

When next I woke it was night. Small lanterns lit the tent, and I saw him standing near as he spoke quietly with another elf. I must have made some small movement for he turned instantly toward me, and once again our gazes linked. I longed to speak to him and tried to do so, but my exhaustion was too great and I lapsed back into sleep once more.

Sometime later I heard voices, soft and lilting, musical in their quality. I lay awake, listening and thinking of him, and heard them call his name. His answer told me he sat near me still.

"Have you nothing better to do than watch me sleep?" I asked, my voice raspy and fragile.

I heard his soft chuckle, and when I opened my eyes I found that he was holding a cup to my lips. "Drink," he commanded, slipping a hand under my head, "but do it slowly."

I did not argue for I was very thirsty. When I was finished, he set down the cup, and I found myself admiring his economy of movement, the way he moved his arm, his head, his eyes. Then I noticed the tent around me, and was disconcerted to realize it was his. He had kept me in his tent, in his bed. For some reason it seemed an intimacy, one for which I was ill prepared.

He leaned forward to study me, and my gaze was drawn to the fall of his beautiful hair. He did not speak, and I wondered if he were waiting for me to do so.

"How long have I been here?" I asked.

He reached out and touched a finger to my cheek. "A week."

"A week!" I gasped and struggled to sit up, then held a hand to my head as flashing pinpoints of light danced in my vision. "How could it have been so long?" I moaned.

He did not answer, but pushed me back against the pillows. "You will stay here, Keara. You are not to move."

I bristled at his domineering tone. "You are not my keeper," I informed him coolly.

The tilt of his head changed subtly, and although he only smiled, something deep in his eyes sent tremors of excitement coursing through me. Wild, unbidden thoughts burst in my head, images of a closeness to him that I dared not imagine. My heart thudding, I rested my arm over my eyes to block out his gaze. I knew I needed to escape as soon as possible, though how I could do so while he sat with me, I did not know. In that moment I had the oddest fancy that he knew my thoughts, all of them, but how could this be? I dismissed the idea, telling myself that it was nonsense.

He sat near me most the day, speaking occasionally of what was happening outside the tent and in the city. I grew tired and slept fitfully, dreaming of him, of the healing I had performed, of his hand pulling me from the abyss, of his lips pressed to mine.

At last there came a time when I awoke and found he was not there. I rose shakily, and flushed as I realized for the first time that I wore nothing but my thin, threadbare chemise. Feeling very vulnerable, I hastily pulled on my dress, found my shoes and left the tent. Furtively, I glanced around, not knowing if he had issued orders for me to be detained against my will. I slipped by several tents, my steps wobbly and awkward as I headed in the direction of the city.

How foolish I was to think he would not know! Within moments his arm caught me around my waist, and I gave what to my own ears sounded like a squeak of indignation. His eyes gleamed with a light I had not seen, and he lifted me effortlessly into his arms and carried me back to his tent. I was furious with him for embarrassing me, and furious with myself for taking such inordinate pleasure in the feel of his arms around my body. I was too weak to fight him, though I gave him a piece of my mind as he set me on my feet.

Ignoring my words, he pulled me toward the bed, and I shuddered at the strength of his touch and my own reaction to it. He gripped my wrist and looked down at me, his eyes boldly traveling over my body, taking in the way the dark red dress clung to my figure. I felt a blush enter my cheeks, and once again I tried to pull away, putting firmness into my tone as I told him he had no right to keep me against my will.

"Are you so certain it is against your will?" he murmured.

He smiled, and I was both angered and thrilled as unbidden, erotic thoughts once again filled my mind. Somehow he must have read them for his smile widened. He drew me closer, his arm around my waist, nearly supporting my full weight as my strength waned. I couldn't breath with him so close to me, and as I struggled to break free, he gave a soft laugh and bent his head closer to mine. His breath was sweet as his lips brushed the corner of my mouth and then my cheek. I could not help but tremble as he pulled me still more firmly against him. I could feel his strength and vitality as our bodies made contact, the coiled power of this elf arousing me in a way I had not felt in years-or indeed had ever felt at all.

He did not kiss me fully, but only held me against him, my arms trapped against his chest as he whispered words in my ear, words I did not understand and was afraid to know. The hair on my nape stood on end as he slid his hand along my back and hips, crushing me against him in such a way that I knew he wanted me as I wanted him. I had touched him in a way no one else had dared, he whispered to me. He wished to repay me for what I had done for him. What did I want, he asked as his hand trailed seductively up my spine. I lowered my gaze, but not before I saw the knowing gleam in his eyes. His lips touched the sensitive spot beneath my ear, then his tongue replaced his lips, and I shuddered as I fought against the rising tide of desire pounding at my sanity.

What might have happened next, I cannot say, but he stiffened suddenly as voices outside the tent announced the arrival of his brothers. He released me with what sounded liked an Elvish oath, and I sank thankfully upon the bed while he turned toward the entrance. The tent door opened and two elves entered, stopping in surprise as they took in my flushed expression and Haldir's glare. They looked at both of us, and I could see the questions in their eyes. Words were spoken, then all three brothers left me, and I curled upon the cot, desperate to make my escape. I had done what I was led to do. Now I suddenly found myself adrift upon a river I could not control, and which left me utterly defenseless.

When Haldir returned a short time later, he brought me food, and made no mention of what had passed between us as he fed me tiny pieces of bread and spoonfuls of soup. To my bemusement, his former aggressiveness had vanished and he seemed almost tender, a new side of him that threatened my composure even more than his former behavior.

The night grew long and I slept, waking in the predawn hours to find myself alone. It had been many days since I had seen the rise of the sun, and I slipped out of the tent to watch, though I dared not go too far. But instead of the sunrise, I found myself turned to face the city, watching its white walls gradually become radiant with the passing minutes. I shivered and wrapped my arms around myself, the dampness of the grass beneath my bare feet chilling me despite the warmth of the sun on my back.

Then I turned, and found him standing behind me. I had not heard his approach, and my mouth went dry as I took in the way the sun haloed his head, setting the silver blondness of his hair afire where the light struck it. As I stood transfixed by his beauty, he reached for me, but I shook my head, fighting back my unexpected tears.

"Nay, you must not," I protested in a low voice.

"Must not what, Keara?" Though the sun was in my eyes, I heard the smile in his voice. He was teasing me, and I felt my heart give a helpless little flutter of longing, the same longing I had felt the night before. Ignoring my reluctance, he enfolded me in his arms so that I found my hands pressed against his broad chest.

"You must not touch me," I said, trying to sound resolute.

He laughed softly. "But why? You like it and so do I."

Flustered, I could feel the hot color rising in my cheeks. I tried to draw away, but the tent was directly behind me, blocking my retreat. Looking amused, he turned me so I could see his face more clearly, but I avoided his gaze, overwhelmed by the mere sight of him and by the intensity of my feelings. For a few moments we stood completely still, neither of us speaking, then he lifted my chin, pulling back so he could search the depths of my eyes. His smile had faded, replaced by a slight, puzzled frown. Perhaps he finally recognized my fear and confusion, for he released me and stepped away.

He bowed low before me and I suddenly felt a different kind of fear. "My people will be leaving soon. We travel home to Lothlórien."

A great weight slammed into my heart. "I see," I replied bleakly.

"Come with me," he said. It was not a question, but a demand.

I turned away, hysteria welling in my throat. "Nay, I cannot."

He was silent for a long moment. "That was a swift decision. You have time to think this over. But not much time."

I covered my face in my hands. My heart wanted to say yes, yet I knew I could not. Logic told me it was impossible. He was a star, shining, distant, brilliant. And unattainable.

"I cannot go with you, Haldir. Please do not ask me again."

I sensed that he was on the verge of arguing, and if he had done so, it is possible I would have been persuaded. Instead, he only said, "Come to me if you change your mind." And then he left me, his long legs carrying him quickly from my sight.

* * *

I left them, the elves, and fled back to the safe haven of my shelter in the city. I could not bear to watch them as they dismantled their tents and packed up their horses and belongings for the long journey back to their homelands. Nor could I leave my room to watch the sun set over the plain. All day and night I lay disconsolate on my bed, my thoughts darkened with pain and tears.

To know I had refused him put me in agony, but in my heart I knew that to go with him would be far worse. What I wanted was not possible. I was a mortal, he was an elf, which precluded all hope of a permanent union. As for a temporary one, I did not think I could bear it. He desired me today and perhaps tomorrow, but what of next week, next month, next year? Sooner or later, he would tire of me, and I had suffered so much already. The loss of my beloved daughter still tormented my dreams, and though I had not loved my husband, he had been a good man and I had lost him also.

And what of the remote possibility that Haldir would come to love me in return? Nay, even that pathway led to pain, for I would only die and leave him. Why should I want to inflict suffering upon him? Or perhaps I would only be one of many to him, and that thought pained me too. Perhaps I was a coward, but I had already experienced a great deal of hurt on his account, and the thought of any more was unendurable to me.

The following morning I heard a knock upon my door, and I rose, guessing who stood outside. Scrubbing the tears from my face, I opened the door to find Legolas once again upon my step. I knew his sharp-eyed gaze took in the evidence of my distress, but he was tactful enough to make no comment. Instead, he surprised me by reaching for my hand. I must come, he said. I must come to see what I had done. He drew me from my room, pulling me quickly through the streets to the lower gate. Look there, he said, and directed me to watch from the wall. He smiled, touched my cheek, and left.

Below me, I saw that the elves had taken down most of their tents, and that a crowd of them stood clustered in an animated group. My eyes widened as I took in Aragorn speaking energetically with Haldir and his two brothers. A moment later I saw Legolas join them, and they continued to talk while pointing at a large, clear area of the field. I had no idea what they said, but I could see the excitement their conversation was creating among the crowd around them. As for me, though I was curious, my attention was focused solely on Haldir.

I was startled when a hand touched my shoulder, and I turned to find one of Arwen Evenstar's handmaidens behind me. She motioned for me to follow her, and I found Arwen standing near the gate. To my amazement, she smiled warmly and took my hand. It seemed an archery contest had been arranged, one in which her husband and several prominent elves would participate. Already the walls of the city were filling with the curious. Arwen pulled me along, saying that I must sit with her, that a place was being kept for me, and that together she and I would witness what my skills had wrought. I did not understand her meaning, but was too weary and sick at heart to question or dissent.

We crossed the grass to sit on chairs set just below the wall, well above the sloping plain where so many others gathered. Within a short time the crowd parted and the Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn made their way toward us, their glow apparent even in the sun's full light. More chairs were brought, and they sat nearby, speaking softly with Arwen in the Elvish tongue. Lord Elrond soon arrived, moving gracefully through the crowd to kiss his daughter Arwen's cheek before he took his place in the last chair. To sit in such exalted company made me wriggle with discomfort, but it seemed this choice was not mine to make and there was nothing I could do.

Within a few minutes Arwen turned to me, her lovely eyes sparkling with delight. With a laugh, she told me that Aragorn would compete, even knowing he would be the first to fail. I frowned in confusion as she pointed toward her husband. Aragorn stood with four elves, one of them Haldir, and I clenched my teeth to hide my reaction to the sight of him. I watched as a large archery target was brought forth and the elves waved at the men who held it, indicating that it should be placed farther back. Aragorn's hand swept out, indicating some objection, but the elves only grinned. Aragorn could not see as well as the elves, Arwen explained, and knew he stood at a distinct disadvantage.

"Then why would he compete?" I asked with curiosity.

Arwen's eyes twinkled. "Because he cannot resist a challenge. Most males cannot."

I pondered this. Was I only a kind of challenge to Haldir? My eyes rested on him, wondering what had been in his mind when he had issued his invitation. Had he expected me to leap with joy? Throw myself at his feet? Since I had not, was I now forgotten? Or would he try once more?

An instant later I pushed these thoughts away as I realized he intended to compete. Dismayed, I studied him, my stomach clenching with renewed tension. Had my healing worked? I felt it had, but in truth I did not know for sure. Had he had sufficient time to recover his strength? That I did not know either, but I was about to learn the answer. And so was he.

My heart thudded hard, my gaze on Haldir as Aragorn handed him his bow. I saw the way their gazes locked in a moment of silent communication, then Aragorn gave a small nod as though to offer encouragement. Was Haldir concerned? What was he thinking? I turned as Arwen whispered to me, telling me that Legolas also carried a bow of the Galadhrim, a gift bestowed upon him from Galadriel herself. To me, it spoke of my friend's skill and I smiled, pleased that this should be so.

The other two elves who would compete were Haldir's brothers, and I was surprised to see their expressions so merry. I felt a hand touch my shoulder, and I turned to find Galadriel standing behind me. She bent low, her voice soft as she explained that I had not only healed Haldir, but also his brothers. Their sorrow had changed them, stolen their laughter, robbed them of their mischievous ways. This, she said, was how they used to be. She touched my shoulder again, then returned to sit again beside her lord.

As I turned backed to study them, I saw that Legolas had stepped forward to take his turn. He stood facing the target, and I admired the clean lineaments of his body and his lithe grace as he drew back his bow, the wood creaking loudly in the stillness. He released the arrow, and the announcement came that the arrow had hit the target squarely. A cheer broke out along the walls. Legolas bowed, and I smiled.

One of Haldir's brothers would go next, and Arwen leaned close to say that this was Rúmil. He was the youngest brother, she said, and his humor was well known. Of course I recognized him as the one I had met first, the suspicious one with the ice blue eyes, the leanest of the three. I watched closely as he drew back his bow and released his arrow, which flew with nearly no sound into the target. Another nod from the judges, and the walls broke out in more cheers. Rúmil grinned cockily and bowed low to the crowd, and they cheered all the more.

Aragorn strode up, and those on the walls hailed their King, who smiled and waved them to silence. He turned, his bow smaller and lighter than the others, and fixed his eyes on the target. The crowd watched in silence as he pulled back the bowstring with his elegant fingers and loosed the arrow. It hit the target with a thud and once again a nod brought on the cheers. Three arrows now embedded the target, all clustered about the center.

Arwen leaned near once more to identify the next elf as Orophin, the middle brother, whose poetry she admired. His skill with the bow was also notorious. I saw him glance over at Haldir, a challenge sparkling in his eye. Then he lifted his bow and aimed, taking no more than a moment in which to shoot. Once again the crowd cheered as the result was the same. Orophin also bowed to the crowd, his grin as wide as Rúmil's had been.

My fingers gripped my knees as everyone's eyes turned to Haldir, who sauntered forward with catlike grace, his bow held loosely in his hand. The crowd grew silent; not a murmur could be heard as he took his place and nocked the arrow. He lifted his bow, and I found myself sending him a silent message of reassurance and of my complete faith in his ability and strength. Before I even had time to feel foolish, he turned his head and gazed straight at me. Our eyes connected. My heart rose into my throat, and I barely refrained from covering my mouth with my hand.

At last he looked back at the target. He tilted his head, pulling the string back ever so slowly, his long fingers brushing his cheek. I trembled as he held the pose for several seconds. What was he waiting for? Was something wrong? As these questions hurtled through my mind, his arrow sped across the field.

Where could it go? Alas, the center of the target was already full, and I rose to my feet as resounding cheers flooded the field. The judges looked stunned. Of all five arrows, only one now stood out straight. Haldir's arrow had lodged in the target's heart, breaking all others before it.

I fled. I had seen all I needed to see, no more could I bear to watch. He was healed, his need for me had ended. I flew through the streets until I could run no more, then leaned, panting, against a wall. I closed my eyes, shuddering as my heart pounded in my chest. It was over. Over.

He would leave and I would never see him again.

But I was wrong.

Yes, the elves left that day. They packed their tents and made their goodbyes, but like a fool I returned to watch them from the wall, drawn back by some irresistible, inexplicable force. Aragorn also watched them leave, his face sad, for he surely knew the distress that must lie within Lord Elrond's heart as he bid farewell to his daughter. From above them on the wall, I saw the elves leave, heard them start to sing, their haunting voices carried by the afternoon wind. And of course I watched Haldir, watched him lead his people, his silvery hair fluttering in the breeze, his cloak whipping around his long legs.

He had not sought me out again, nor had I gone to him. I could not say good bye, knew not if he would wish me to. I could only stare at him through shimmering tears, my heart a leaden weight as I fought an overwhelming compulsion to go running after him. And then I saw him stop and look back.

Khila amin.

I did not know the meaning of the words, but all at once they were in my head. Somehow, perhaps by elvish magic, he was sending me a message, a message laden with more emotion than I had ever sensed in him.

What did it mean? What did he want from me?

He was still looking back at me, and I trembled, not knowing what to do, what he expected of me. I knew he could see me far better than I could see him. Could he see the pain in my eyes? Did he know of my longing for him? If so, what could it mean to him? Again, the compulsion to follow him seized me, so powerful that I nearly leaped over the wall in my urgency to reach his side.

Devastated beyond measure, I spun around and ran all the way to my room. Later, I would discover from Legolas the meaning of the words.

Follow me.


	4. Chapter 4

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To you wonderful people who are enjoying this story, I thank you for reading and reviewing. Please check out the other story that I am posting right now, Amarië and Haldir: Paths of Destiny. If you liked this one, I think you will like that one also.

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Chapter 4: Summoned

I stayed on in the city, for I had nowhere else to go, nothing to cling to but memories and the strange phrases that would enter my head at unexpected moments. Sometimes I truly thought they were from him, at other times I was certain they owed their creation to wishful thinking and vivid imagination. Yet often I wondered. Just lately I was finding that the word 'soon' often slithered through my mind.

If it had a meaning, what was it? Soon what?

The winter snows had come and gone, and the plain below the white city grew green and lush once more. The warm spring breeze held the banners high, the tower shining in the morning light.

Aragorn came to me one morning as I sat upon the wall staring out on the fields, memories of the elves' colorful tents vivid in my thoughts. The King came and stood beside me, leaning his elbows on the wall, gazing where I gazed, perhaps even sharing the same recollections. A favor, he said. One that only I could provide. Would I come to the tower? He had something to show me. I should come today.

Of course I could not refuse the King.

I arrived and found them waiting, Arwen and the King. Aragorn rose, greeting me with a courteous smile as I bowed before them. In his hand he held a letter, delivered the day before by a group of traveling elves. It was unopened, but he had also received one, he said, and he knew what mine contained. Both were from Galadriel.

I looked down at the letter, my trembling causing it to shake. I stared at the elegant inscription of my name, but told him I dared not open it. I think he knew why and for whom I grieved, for his look was compassionate as he took it from me and broke open the seal. He read it to himself, then gently handed it back to me.

I took it and turned away, afraid to let them see my face while I read. When done, I knew my face was white as I sank slowly to the floor, my knees unable to support me as I took in the implications of what she asked. Aragorn knelt next to me while, over and over, I shook my head, blinded by my tears. She needed me, he said. She knew what I could do. Could I refuse a request from the Queen of the Lothlórien elves?

But in the end it was Arwen whose words aided me in my hour of need. She took her husband's place at my side, her hand gentle on my arm. "The love between a mortal and an elf can be the sweetest love of all," she whispered. "Such love is a gift from the Valar. Trust my grandmother, Keara. She is older and wiser than you can imagine. She knows what it is she asks. She does not wish to inflict pain on either you or him."

I did not ask her how she knew, but only bowed my head in silent acquiescence. And so it was that I traveled long days and nights accompanied by a contingent of Aragorn's guard along the Great River to the north. The stars shone brightly on the night I first set eyes on Lothlórien.

We encamped a short way from the wood that night, but I could not sleep for thoughts of him. I wondered how I would be greeted. Would he be there or would he send others? Had he thought of me during these past months? And if so, would he tell me so? Surrounded by Aragorn's guard, I felt as though I sat alone at the campfire, staring at the stars as the hours passed with painful slowness.

In the morning, we entered the Golden Wood. I clutched my cloak about me and gazed upward in amazement at the massive trees surrounding us. The light was dimmer in the forest, and the rustling of the leaves and the moan of the wind made me slightly uneasy as we slowly picked our way in what seemed to be the right direction.

My guards were uneasy as well, even knowing they were expected. One took firm hold of my upper arm, gripping it securely as we went deeper into the wood. How far must we go, I asked, but he only shook his head. He did not know.

Feeling tense, I gazed about me, wondering where they were, when my foot suddenly caught upon a root and I stumbled. The guards' attention was drawn to me for only a split second, but it was enough. When I looked up, the elves were there.

The guard at my elbow muttered an oath and pulled me sharply back. I had not heard or felt them, but they had most likely been watching us for some time. Five of them stood silently before us, their arrows nocked but pointed at the ground. I did not recognize any of them, but now that they had shown themselves I found that I was not afraid. I think my guard felt otherwise, for his grip tightened on my arm as Haldir dropped lightly to the ground from somewhere high above.

My eyes were wide and my breathing erratic as the one who haunted my dreams came forward. He stared at the guard surrounding me with an air of haughty amusement and told them almost with disdain that they could go no further. His tone hinted at dire consequences should they challenge him, and I gasped when the guard holding my arm thrust me forward with abruptness. I nearly fell, but Haldir caught me and dragged me close.

"That is no way to treat a woman," he said contemptuously. His eyes fixed coldly on Aragorn's guard as he drew me almost possessively against his side. He was just as arrogant and overbearing as I remembered him, and for some reason I wanted to laugh.

I could feel his tension as he held me, his voice clipped as he ordered the guards to leave the woods without delay. I heard several elves snicker as the men turned, nearly running in their haste to leave the Lórien woods behind. One of them left behind the small pack that carried my belongings, including my treasured red dress, and an elf went and picked it up. Then the elves backed away, their soft laughter fading as they gave me a moment alone with Haldir. My mouth went dry as I turned to face him.

His mouth curved in a small half smile, his gray eyes roving over my face in intimate appraisal. "Welcome to Lothlórien, Keara. It has been a long journey for you." He studied me a moment longer. "I am glad you are here," he added, and I saw something in his eyes that stirred my hopes that he had missed me.

I gripped the edges of my cloak and managed a small smile, but could make no reply, for my voice had suddenly deserted me. Fortunately, he did not seem to expect one, for he lifted his gaze from mine and gripped my arm as the guard had done, but with a great deal more gentleness.

He led me deeper into the wood, his guard filing silently behind us. I did not speak, not knowing what to say to him, and the wood seemed silent as well. Eventually he asked me of my journey and I answered him, but by then my mind was drifting as I began to tire. Many nights had I lain sleepless, knowing we traveled nearer to the one I thought never to see again. How would I react? What would he say? Such questions had filled my thoughts throughout the journey.

In due course he stopped, somehow sensing my exhaustion, and led me to a small glade where the sun filtered through the high canopy above. He bade me sit and rest, and I sank gratefully to the soft, tufted grass and leaned wearily against a tree. Another elf approached and handed me a cup of water, and I smiled my thanks. He returned my smile, his blue eyes crinkling, and it crossed my mind that when it came to physical appearance, all these elves surpassed most of the men I had known. Perhaps it was well they did not often travel the world, for I was sure the trail of broken hearts behind them would be long.

I watched Haldir as he strode further down the path, realizing with a start that he stood talking to his brother. Rúmil looked weary, and I could see his cloak and tunic were stained with blood. Haldir reached out to touch his brother's shoulder where a stain was bright, but Rúmil pushed him away and continued to speak, gestures with his elegant hands punctuating his words. Behind him, another group of elves waited, their demeanor grim.

My weariness must have been far greater than I realized, for I did not feel it when he lifted me. When I awoke, I was being carried, cradled in his arms, his male scent filling my head, my cheek pressed to the soft wool of his gray tunic. It felt like something out of a dream, a sweet moment of absolute bliss, and for a few seconds I allowed myself to enjoy it. Then I spoke his name and he glanced at me, but did not release me as I expected.

"I am awake," I pointed out, a warm flush creeping up my neck.

He smiled slightly. "So I see."

"That means you can put me down," I said, wriggling a little. I was amazed by how smoothly he was able to carry me despite his swift pace.

"Indeed I could," he agreed, "if I wished it. But I do not. I have waited long months to hold you in my arms. I admit this is not quite what I had in mind, but it will do for the moment."

I blinked, unable to believe my ears. Many things had I imagined him saying to me, but not this. "You are being overbearing," I told him sternly. "I command you to put me down."

He chuckled. "You are under my authority now, Keara. I am March Warden here and can do as I want. Besides, I am enjoying this."

Flabbergasted, I gaped at him, unable to believe he would admit it. "Just because I am weaker than you does not give you the right to control my actions."

He gave a soft snort and held me tighter, and I debated whether I should risk my dignity in a struggle I was sure to lose. "Haldir," I said finally, "I do not think you are being sensible. There is no reason to carry me. I am quite able to walk."

"There is reason enough if it gives me pleasure. It gives you pleasure too," he added slyly. "And I am actually demonstrating a great deal of restraint." As if to highlight this, the hand nearest to my hips gave me a light squeeze on my bottom.

Behind us, I could hear several chuckles, and I realized with embarrassment that his elves understood at least the essence of our conversation. I squeezed my eyes shut as my face grew hot, and I heard Haldir laugh softly under his breath. He gripped me a little more snugly as he climbed a small hill, the effort he expended to carry me seeming so small that it was insignificant.

I must actually have drifted off to sleep again, and I wondered later if he had known the extent of my exhaustion. When next I opened my eyes, we had nearly reached his city, so he set me on my feet and told me to look. He watched my face as I stared in awe at the city of Caras Galadhon, constructed in the very heights of massive golden-leafed trees called mellyrns. With pride, he explained that his people, the Silvan elves of the land of Lórien, were called the Galadhrim, meaning 'tree people', and that the Lord and Lady had ruled here for more than a thousand years.

He led me down into the valley, and it was nightfall when we reached the city gates. I could not stop looking around me, and I think this amused him for he often glanced at me. The mists were rising and the night was cool, and I shivered as I followed him along the pathways through the trees. Above me, around the great bases of the trees, filigree walkways spiraled upward, the branches of the trees intertwining among the walkways and platforms to become lost in blue-tinted shadows.

He led me up one of the stairways, and with fascination I studied the ornate artistry that had created a living city amid these mighty branches. Above, I could see a large building woven among the branches, its walls a lattice of lacy woven creations that spilled a soft warm light which seemed to beckon me closer.

At last we reached the top, and paused before a low rise that led into a warm light streaming from above. I somehow knew I stood where few humans dared to stand, and nervously clutched the cloak that was fast becoming my anchor. In wonder, I watched the two golden apparitions glide gracefully toward me down the steps. The brightness of their glow blurred their forms, and I blinked as they drew near and materialized into the familiar, elegant creatures I had met amid the tents below the white city.

Filled with the wisdom and knowledge of the ages, the Queen's blue eyes gripped me, held me in thrall. Unlike before, I felt the brush of her mind against mine as she tried to read me, but whether she succeeded or not, I do not know. Both she and Celeborn then welcomed me to their land, and I bowed, still amazed that I was here at all.

She asked only of my travels, her gaze moving to Haldir as if to gather information, but what she learned from him I could not tell. She would speak to me again, but for now I must go with Haldir. He would show me where I would stay, and I must rest before we spoke again. I hesitated, needing to know why she had sent for me, but Haldir's firm grip upon my elbow drew me away and down the stair.

My thoughts grew chaotic as he directed my steps. What did she want of me? Who was I to heal? My concern and curiosity were great enough that I asked Haldir if he knew. To my surprise, he frowned and refused to answer, stating only that I would be told soon enough. His playfulness was gone, replaced by a brooding quality that reminded me of the way he had been before his healing. It troubled me, this change in him, and I briefly considered teasing him in an attempt to break through whatever barrier he'd put up.

He led me to a small room set among the branches of a tree. It seemed a part of the tree, its walls interwoven with the smaller branches, its floor covered in soft rugs. The bed in the corner sat next to a window hung with sheer curtains ruffled by the breeze. My pack had been delivered, left on a wooden chair near a small table.

He had already turned to go when I found the courage to speak. "Haldir, what is wrong?"

He turned back to look at me, his dark brows lifted. "Why do you ask?"

"Your manner seems changed," I stammered, flustered by the eyes that now drilled into me. Had I mistaken his interest in me? Was his mind already on other matters? If so, he would think my question brazen and foolish.

He approached me, his gaze subtly altered. "Do I detect a personal interest? Are you no longer denying your feelings for me?"

I opened and shut my mouth, confounded by his directness. "It is not a question of denying them," I said after a few moments. "It is a question of . . . practicality."

He looked amused. "You found it practical to stay in the white city all these months? You found it practical to deny that which you knew to be your true desire?" He stood looking down at me, so near that I could feel his breath, the heat from his body.

Discomposed, I lowered my gaze. "I know you think me weak . . ."

"Weak?" He took both my hands in his, and a curious note entered his voice. "Keara, you are not weak. No one knows better than I what you have had the courage to do. It is hard enough to bear one's own pain, but to willingly take on another's pain is not an act of weakness. You stand among the strongest and bravest I have known. I admire you greatly."

They were words I had longed to hear and had not known it. To my profound embarrassment, my eyes filled with tears, and as if he read my mind, he slid his arms around me to offer comfort. As I sobbed against his chest, he removed my cloak and cast it aside, murmuring soft Elvish words that held no meaning to me, yet seemed to soothe me all the same. We stayed this way until I calmed.

"We will speak more later," he said. "Right now you are weary and must rest." It was his authoritative voice, but this time I did not tell him he was being overbearing, for I felt his lips brush my hair before he drew away. He left me, and before I even turned around, a female elf had taken his place.

She had brought me food, and I thanked her with a smile as well as words. She answered in the common tongue, her soft voice a quiet music that caressed my ears. Clothes and any other items I might deem necessary had been brought, and I need only ask if I had need of something more. I told her I needed nothing, but her reply was firm. I must accept what was given to me. I was surprised by her insistence, and wondered whether Aragorn had spoken to Galadriel of my reluctance to accept gifts.

When she had gone, I removed my gray traveling gown and washed away the grime of travel using the basin of water on the nightstand. Feeling better, I ate the food she had left and climbed into a bed that enveloped me with its softness, the blankets warming the chill from my body. I sank quickly into a sleep that could well have been aided by a touch of elven magic.

* * *

I woke before the sunrise, and felt a pang of dismay that I would be unable to see it. Still, I rose, knowing I could sleep no more, and dressed in a gown I found lying across the foot the bed. Where it had come from, I knew not, but I dared not refuse to wear it. It slid over me in a soft, silken whisper, its color a shade of blue that reminded me of Galadriel's eyes.

A soft knock on the door startled me, for the morning was still a hour away. I opened the door to find Haldir leaning casually against the doorframe. My heart fluttered madly at the appreciative way his eyes slid over me, the way his eyes glinted as they slowly returned to settle on my face. I knew not how, but I felt as though I was feeling his emotion, and that it matched my own.

He thought I might like to see the sunrise, and I wondered how he knew. I stared at him, wanting so much to go with him, yet fearing the power that he held over my emotions. I finally agreed, seeing his smile widen at the length of time for me to answer. He took my hand, drawing me along a stair that led us steadily higher through the trees. He did not speak, but held my hand lightly in his, and I was more conscious of the warmth of his touch than I was of the twinkling lights around us.

Then we reached the top of the stair and I gasped, whirling around, staring at the incredible view before me. We stood at the very crown of the city, for this platform, which the elves called a flet, allowed us to view the glory of the golden wood for a great distance in every direction. Above, the stars twinkled in the purple of the night sky, the first hints of dawn just beginning to brush the far horizon.

Instinctively I knew he came here often, and I saw him smile at my delight. I leaned on the rail of the platform, shivering as the cool breeze lifted my hair to flutter and catch among my eyelashes. He moved behind me and wrapped his cloak around us both, his body pressed intimately to mine. Though my heart thundered, I made no objection, for in some way it seemed right and perfect that we should stand like this to view this particular sunrise on this particular day.

Of all the mornings I had seen, I knew that this one would forever be seared into my memory. Together, we watched the first golden rays brush the treetops, gilding them in gold and green. Then the sky began to lighten with the gradual appearance of pink and gold as the purple faded into blue. The mists rising from the depths of the forest refracted the light so that it burst into a rainbow of colors that brought a sudden tear to my eye. Without thinking, I turned to him, unable to speak for the emotion in my throat. His thumb brushed away the tear, then continued down my cheek to stroke across my lips. Our gazes locked, the sunrise forgotten, and then his mouth came close to mine.

And that was when he kissed me, our first kiss and a gentle one, the joining of our mouths becoming the sweetest experience of my life thus far. His lips were warm and eager, yet in some inexplicable way I knew that he was using great restraint. Below the surface, I could feel his simmering tension, an unleashed passion far greater than I had ever experienced. All I needed was the courage to accept it. And I knew also that he was purposely letting me feel it, giving me a taste of what could be if I was willing to allow it. He was giving me the choice, even daring me. But I was not yet ready, nor that brave.

An hour later, I was summoned by Galadriel.


	5. Chapter 5

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Once again, thank you so much for all the nice reviews!!!! It is so good to get the feedback!! :D

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Chapter 5: Conflicted

I was taken to Galadriel by the female elf who had assisted me the night before. She led me to a shadowed glade upon the forest floor, a place where the massive roots of trees surrounded a small grassy refuge. I found the Lady waiting there, and she led me to a small stone bench where we sat.

I gazed around me. I could see her thoughts were distant, and when she finally turned to me I saw a flash of sadness cross her features. After that I could not read her expression, but she welcomed me once again and thanked me for making the long journey to Lothlórien. Then she rose to her feet and looked at me, explaining that the time of the elves was ending, that they would soon be leaving Middle Earth. With the destruction of the one ring, their powers were waning. Her own powers were also waning, she told me, and she knew not how long she could remain.

Her face grave, she told me that because of this, her efforts to heal grew weaker. More and more of her people were growing despondent and wearied. Did I realize how long a life the elves led? I shook my head, unable to imagine, and she smiled sadly at my expression. A life immortal was a long time to live in a body that was in ill in health.

I finally understood her need, for I could heal what she could not. Her voice gripped me as she spoke of the loss of her people, of the war and the grief that many could no longer bear. I could not fully understand the depths of what an elven mind must deal with, the length of their lives and the multitudes of experiences that they must carry in their hearts. But I knew that what they were losing in the waning of their power, I had somehow gained.

"Look at what you did for Haldir," Galadriel said. "Even before his injury, his heart was tainted with despair, although he fought it better than most. And after that," she continued, her brilliant blue eyes locked with mine, "after they brought him back from Helm's Deep and I was not able to heal him, his shadows grew darker. I feared he would not be able to withstand the forces of despair that sought to take control of him. To face eternity with that kind of pain, Keara. Think of it."

I looked down at my fingers, trying to imagine what it must have been like for him. Just the thought of it filled me with an agony all my own.

"But the ways of the Valar are indeed strange, for they sent you to us, and in ways I could never have envisioned, you have brought light back where shadow had thought to rule. Haldir is healed, the hearts of his brothers are lightened, and because of that, some measure of my own despair has lifted."

I glanced up at her. "How many?" I asked calmly. "How many must I heal?"

She led me deeper into the city to a small building set among the trees. Its walls grew out of the earth, coiled toward the canopy above like the stems of flowers that grew in masses along the paths we had traveled through the forests. I stepped inside to find many who could only stare listlessly, hardly able to move from the weight of their hopelessness and despondency. Those who cared for them stepped back from me with a respect I did not think I had yet earned.

I began to do what I could. I could not heal quickly; the power of the elves took more from me than what I was used to dealing with in humans, and I often found myself weak and dizzy after only a few moments of connection.

At that time I was not aware of the disquiet my illness caused the one who watched me. Many times had I woken from my dizziness to find him carrying me to my room. He did not speak to me, but would set me on my bed and give me water before he left another to care for me. He knew I was determined to continue, and seemed to accept it, although with grimness.

A few times he brought me to see the sunrise, but the climb was long and I found I could not bear the distance. Of course he offered to carry me, and indeed attempted to bully me into allowing it, but I made it clear that this was not to my liking. I had withdrawn from him emotionally, and this seemed to have an effect on him; instead of arguing, he left me alone, only showing himself when I was so weak and ill that I could not return to my room without assistance. Still, I grew even more determined to heal those I could, for the elves' needs were great and I pitied them.

I knew he did not always stay near me; his duties often took him into the forest where he was needed. The darkness that had shadowed the world was gone, but creatures of evil still traveled the paths of the world, seeking to destroy and maim.

Sometimes I found myself straining to catch the sound of his voice and the hint of his scent as I lay, weak and shaky, my eyes closed against the onslaught of the outside world. Sometimes, as odd as it seemed, I would sense when he was coming, but this did not happen often. He would just be there suddenly, seeming somehow to know when I most needed him. I would feel myself being lifted and know that it was him, having no need to open my eyes to see, nor the will or desire to open my mouth to object.

In time, I felt my weakness growing less as I sat among the ailing elves. Whether I had grown in strength or whether the Valar took pity on me I neither knew nor cared, but there came a day when at last I walked among the trees again with strong legs and a light heart. My day's work was concluded and I had some free time to reflect.

"Would you like to see the sunrise?"

I turned and found him there. Deep in thought, I had not heard him approach, though this was unsurprising given his elven abilities at stealth. I gazed at him with sudden longing, not only for the sunrise but for his company. Yet all I told him was that yes, I would like to see the sunrise once again.

His penetrating gaze studied me closely, seeming to see into my very thoughts. "I will come for you in the morning then." He nodded, and I watched him walk away, my heart fluttering with anticipation.

I woke earlier than normal the next morning and lay in the darkness, looking up at what little I could see of the woven branches covering the glass roof above my head. If he were here, he would be able to see them clearly despite the dark. If he were here with me . . . I shoved the thought aside, but not before a wave of tingling assaulted my body.

I plucked at the blanket, evaluating my emotions. How long could I continue? How long would my heart be able to handle the depths of my feelings for him? I had tried for weeks not to think of him, but now that I was feeling well, I could not keep such thoughts at bay. Every glance he had given me, every occasion he had touched me, each memory rushed back into my mind at this moment. The prospect that I would soon be near him sent my nerves clamoring for more, more kisses, more glances, more of him. But what did he feel? At times he seemed so distant, and yet I was often taken aback by the intensity of his gaze. But what he was thinking at those times remained hidden from me.

I rose and dressed quickly as the hour of dawn drew near. I had just picked up my cloak when his light knock sounded on my door. My heart thudded, but I tried to appear calm as I walked over and I opened it. He wore a tunic the color of burnished copper, a color that suited him, its fabric textured but with a sheen, and decorated with black threads. He did not speak, though his gaze slid over me quite thoroughly before he took my cloak from my hand and wrapped it around me.

He took hold of my elbow, escorting me along the familiar pathways, and I walked with him as if in a dream, content just to be with him, yet at the same time reluctant to let him know. At one point he stopped abruptly and turned to look at me. He seemed to be about to say something, but then did not; instead he steered my steps toward the stairs that led to the pinnacle of the city. Arriving, I walked over and leaned against the railing, and he followed and stood beside me. We did not speak, but silently watched as the sky slowly brightened and the wind grew stiff.

"I do not like to see what this healing work does to you!" His words were sudden and forcefully spoken.

Surprised, I turned to look at him. His eyes were dark and piercing as he glared at me. A sudden gust of wind blew my hair across my face, and he reached out to brush it aside.

"I cannot stop," I told him quietly.

The wind picked up the fine strands of his pale hair, fluttering them around his face and over his cheek, but he ignored it. He drew a breath and looked away from me, and I could see him struggle in his choice of words.

"The Lady and I have had much disagreement on this," he said carefully.

Troubled, I studied him, not wanting to be a cause of dissention between him and his queen. Desperately, I wanted to touch him, to reassure him, but dared not. He turned back to me, a sadness in his eyes that he hid quickly, but not before I saw it. It pushed me to reach out. I smoothed away the hair that blew across his cheek, and he caught hold of my hand and pressed his lips to my palm.

The fire that swept through me shocked me to the core. His eyes held mine. I could not look away from their intensity, nor could I breath.

He moved closer. "You gave me back my life," he said in a low tone. "I should not deny others the chance to regain theirs." Frustration filled his voice. "But I also cannot deny that I wish you would stop." He released my hand and I tucked it close to my chest, not wanting to lose the feel of his lips.

"Why?" I asked, half guessing the answer, but needing to know if I was only being presumptuous.

He now wore a slight, rather irritable curl to his mouth; it gave him a sulky look that somehow accentuated his male beauty. "I could say I am only concerned that you will fall so ill that at some point you never recover. Would the loss of your own health be worth it to you?" He shook his head. "But that is your choice to make. I have no say in it." He scowled, looking beyond me to the horizon.

"But that is not the whole reason?" I spoke hesitantly, afraid he would laugh at my question, but needing, yearning to know if there was more.

He looked down at me then, and I grew faint when I saw the hungry glitter in his eyes, the suggestive curve to his sensual mouth. I realized that at this moment he was choosing to reveal something to me that he had hidden before, and my knees trembled as his hands wrapped around my upper arms and pulled me against him.

"Indeed," he said huskily, "that is not the only reason. I have spent long hours, long days in which my thoughts were only of you, Keara. Do you not realize when you healed me that you received something from me? That we exchanged something?"

My mind whirled with bewilderment. I did not understand his meaning, and he saw this and gave a smile that would have sent me stepping back a step had I been free to do so. "Can you not feel that this is true?" he demanded. "Do you not know what has happened? You want me, Keara. I've seen the way you look at me. But there is more to it than that. I have felt you."

A flush swept my face and my body trembled, but I still did not quite understand. How could he see me so clearly? Were my thoughts so evident? How many nights had I lain awake, burning with desire for him? Consumed with wanting him? I shuddered to think of what he must think of me, but he only grinned and pulled me closer. My heart was nigh to bursting as he bent over me.

The first brush of his lips was soft, like a question, but when my arms slipped around his neck, he grew at once demanding. The urgent pressure of his mouth increased, his tongue plunging and exploring, tasting me, my mouth, my neck, my face. My mind went blank as he devoured me, my blood pounding, my hands tangling in his long pale hair, stroking the delicate tips of his ears. I was lost, aware of nothing but him, and I think he felt this too, for I heard him moan deep in his throat, and the sound aroused me so much that I thought I would die from pleasure. The wind whipped around us as he pressed me back against the railing, nearly fusing my body with his as he moved against me with a bold rhythm, an erotic call my body recognized and yearned to answer.

Both of us were breathing heavily when he released me and I think I would have fallen if his hands had not been there to support me. My pulse still raced, and I was afraid to look at him, embarrassed by my wild reaction to him. How amusing he must find me! How many others had he kissed this way, this magnificent, beautiful elf? Hundreds? Thousands? Tens of thousands?

He held me tight, my head against his shoulder, my hand against his chest so that I could feel the thundering of his heart. "Keara, Keara," he murmured, "I have kissed no one the way I just kissed you, and I do not find you amusing. And I have certainly not kissed tens of thousands. A fine opinion you have of me."

I froze, unable to believe my ears. I pushed him from me and stared at him in shock. "You knew what I was thinking!" My hand flew to my mouth.

"I have long known your thoughts," he said. "At least some of them." His expression belied his words, for he did indeed seem most amused.

I gasped in horror, searching his face for some sign that he was teasing me, but failed to see it. My mind went numb. I tried to wrench myself from his grasp, but he did not release me.

"Why are you shocked? Have you not felt our connection?" His brow creased with puzzlement.

I could not answer. I felt violated, invaded without my permission. My body shook with disbelief.

He gripped my chin, forcing me to look at him. "I do not know all your thoughts, Keara, only some of them. If you listen, perhaps you may hear mine."

He released me as the sun's rays struck him, illuminating the silver hair that whipped around his head. I turned away from him and ran, down the stairs, along the walkways and bridges of Caras Galadhon until I reached the sanctuary of my room. My pulse beating erratically, chaotic thoughts rebounding in my head, I threw myself down upon my bed and burst into tears. And in my mind I begged him not to follow me.

* * *

Several days passed and I did not see him. I was told he had gone back to the border, and I wondered how long he would stay there and whether he was angry with me. And of course with every thought that passed through my head, I wondered if he heard. He had said he could read only some of my thoughts. Which ones? Was there some way I could shut him out?

The next morning, I woke with my heart in my throat. My pulse raced madly without cause, and I sat up, clutching my sheet to me, confounded to discover that the thought that whispered through my head was not my own. It was alien to me, it had shattered my dream and my sleep, and it was not mine. It was his.

I rose from the bed, shivering in the coolness of the night, and with shaking hands poured myself a glass of water. I sipped at it, my mind reeling as I wrapped my arms around me, the water sloshing against my arm. I crossed to the window, staring at the soft lights that sparkled dimly, tiny fairy lights that seemed to flicker amid the blue shadows of the city, casting misty halos of light against the black branches of the trees. I turned, sliding down the wall to sit below the window, when another of his thoughts caressed my mind.

My eyes widened. What was he doing? My body came alive as an image swept through me, bringing the blood rushing to my face. He was thinking of me, remembering our kiss, recalling his feelings and sensations. I tried to push the image away, drive it from my mind, but it refused to be banished. I knew not whether he lay dreaming or awake, but I could feel his powerful desire for me, a desire controlled by an iron grip. I shuddered at its intensity.

I forced myself to my feet, unable to believe he felt this way about me. Could it be only a vivid dream of my own, fueled by my own desires? No. It was his thought, his memory, his yearning, his emotion. In my head.

After another minute the image faded, and I felt a sense of emptiness, as if I had lost something precious. Depressed, I set the glass on the table and crawled back into my bed, shivering despite the warmth of the blankets. I stared at the ceiling until at last I drifted into a restless sleep.

* * *

The elf lay still, his closed lids translucent, and I placed my fingers on his brow, shutting my eyes as I searched for the slow beat of his pulse. His injury was minor, his breathing faint and steady, but I could feel the depth of the despair that strangled his will. I could not fight this despair; I had felt it in so many, and knew it was a bane that yet awaited others. It was a call to go home, a summoning to sail to the west, to return to the undying lands of Valinor. How long would this one be able to fight it? How old was he, how many long years had he felt like this? I did not know, but could only offer him a token of relief, an easing of his insidious despair and weariness.

I released him and staggered back, my legs shaking from the effects of his healing, my vision narrowing to a hazy band before my eyes. It was worse with the despair; I had to find a place to sit, to grip my stomach as the waves of nausea and illness rippled through me. I turned blindly, and felt their gentle hands upon my arms. They guided me to a seat and left me as they knew I preferred. I curled up, resting my head on my knees, my hair cascading over my shoulder to pool near my feet.

I froze as the heat of his concern blazed through my mind, and I knew suddenly that he was coming for me. I drew a shuddering breath, trying to dispel the pain, but it did not recede. I did not like him to see me like this, weak and ill and pale and helpless. For him, I wanted to be strong and healthy and beautiful. And I hated the idea that I continued to be the cause of strife between him and his queen.

I rose and stumbled from the building, pushing my way into the glade around it. I had a vague idea that I would flee to some place he could not find me, but of course that could not be. How could I hide from him when he had only to read my thoughts to discover where I was? I leaned against a tree, nearly sobbing with frustration and despondency. And then the blackness surrounded me.

I felt his arms lift me. He spoke to me, grimly remonstrating me for what I was doing to myself, but the shadow was too great and I could not reply. I cringed inwardly as I felt the strength of his anger at my stubbornness. Oh, I was a thorn in the beauty of a rose, a dagger that would tear an unwary touch. Yet there was also tenderness in his thoughts and in his touch as he carried me. I could feel the warmth of his body, the soft texture of his woolen tunic beneath my cheek, the coolness of the leather strap that crossed his chest.

I woke to see him sitting near me, his bow and quiver set beside him on the floor. He wore his cloak pushed over his shoulders and it was the blood on it that made me sit up. My heart rose in my throat as I stared at him in panic.

"It is not my blood," he said, reading the question in my mind.

"But there are others who are injured," I answered, picking this up from him.

His jaw clenched as I tried to rise. He leaned forward, and I froze as his gray eyes pinned me. "No, Keara," he said flatly. "Under no circumstances will I allow you to go. You are too weak. I forbid it."

"You have no right to forbid me to do anything," I said.

"Oh, do I not?" he said softly. "I have the right to protect what is mine. Or should be mine, if she were not so stubborn."

I did not speak aloud, but in my mind I told him what I thought of him, that he was dictatorial and arrogant and irritating, and that if I had my strength I would flout his authority and do exactly what I pleased.

He read me, of course, and I both saw and felt his amusement, and also something else, perhaps a flash of approval? I knew in that instant that any battles we might have would be pleasurable, that I would at all times have his respect even though he would always seek to win. He was the March Warden, used to being obeyed, and it would not be a habit he was likely to relinquish.

"Galadriel and Celeborn are there," he told me. "You are not needed."

I knew he was wrong, yet he was also right. Indeed, I was foolish to think I could return. I knew not if I could even stand, let alone perform another healing.

He sat back, and I heard him sigh as he leaned his head against the chair. I saw images of the recent battle flashing in his mind; the fight had been bloody, and I was chilled by his icy calm when he remembered it. How many were hurt, I asked silently. Only a few. The Orcs had separated, and a few elves had taken minor injuries. The thought heated his anger, and I felt its flare as he stared off into a distance I could not see.

Why could I suddenly read his thoughts so clearly? Was it because he sat unguarded, his expression impassive? How much of mine did he feel and not reveal? He knew of my determination to heal, but did he know how much I hated that he saw me like this, so weak and haggard? I shivered as I wondered what he thought of my appearance. What did he see when he looked at me?

I closed my eyes, resigned to my need to rest, when I suddenly saw an image that brought quick color to my cheeks. Keara. His mind caressed my name, stretching out the syllables in a long breathy whisper. Kay-r-ah. A tingle ran through me as I saw myself as he saw me, my image in his mind.

I knew that I was pretty; I'd been told this from an early age, but never had I thought I was as lovely as he saw me. My looks intrigued and attracted him. He found me exotic, alluring, tempting, beautiful. He liked my almond-shaped eyes, my smooth, dark hair, the shape of my face. He liked my hands, my arms, my neck, my lips. He found my scent intoxicating. As for my body, he seemed able to imagine me very well in all particulars, and indeed enjoyed doing so, even at this very moment. Overwhelmed and stunned, I turned my face away when he moved to sit beside me on the bed.

"Keara," he said, turning my head so I would look at him. He smiled down at me, amused by my blush. "We will talk of this later. I must go."

He saw me look again at his blood-stained cloak. "Promise me you will not leave this room." He leaned closer. "Give me your word, Keara."

"You have it," I whispered. "I will not go."

He seemed satisfied that I would not defy him, although he studied me for a long moment. And then he left me, his long legs carrying him swiftly from the room.

I curled on my side, my gaze focused on the empty doorway, hearing the echo of his last silent message. You are already mine, whether I have claimed you or not.


	6. Chapter 6

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Again, I would like to thank everyone for their reviews. Fianna and I appreciate it VERY much!! And please check out my other story, Amarië & Haldir: Paths of Destiny, which I am also updating regularly!! Also, check my bio for answers to some of your questions.

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Chapter 6: Tempted

The day began like all the others, my morning occupied with the despairing. There were only a few of them now, and I praised the Valar that the need for me was less. I aided one female elf as best I could, then took my leave, only slightly weakened by the healing. I sat on a bench outside the building, breathing the crisp air, and soon noticed that my weakness was gone. I felt renewed, strengthened in some mysterious way, and again I sent my silent gratitude to the Valar, and to Ilúvatar, The One, the Father of all.

I soon rose to my feet and walked among the great mellyrn trees, my thoughts drifting as I trod upon the golden leaves strewn about the ground. Haldir was gone, and I tried not to think of him because by now I realized that each time I reflected upon him, I was at once deluged with his answering thoughts, emotions, and sometimes extremely disconcerting images, many of which brought the color rushing to my cheeks. Too late, I sensed a flash of amusement and knew that it had come from him. He was laughing at me, teasing me because I blushed so easily, and it annoyed me enough to make me scowl.

I continued my walk. How I had come to love this wonderful city and these great trees! Slowly, gradually, they had soothed the grief that I had held so long in my heart. My child was gone, but no longer did I bear such intense sorrow. I had to go on. But to where? Where did my path lead now?

The image that hit me was so strong I had to grasp a nearby tree for support to keep from falling. It seemed to come from far away, yet it was so intense I sank to the ground for a moment. His desire burned like a hot flame in my head. He was thinking of me again. Where he was I could not tell, but the fact that I was the object of his attention was obvious as he purposely bombarded me with several more images, lessons in eroticism such as I had never imagined, nor experienced. Another wave of his amusement washed over me as he sent me an image so graphic that I nearly moaned with the force of my own arousal.

How dare he do this to me! Incensed, I scrambled to my feet, concerned that someone might see me lying on the ground. I leaned against the smooth bark of the tree, trying to still the wild pounding of my heart. As soon as I was able, I hurried up the stairways of the city, brushing past the ornate posts, my thoughts unable to escape the memory of what he had just done to me. Reaching my room, I pressed a hand to my forehead, my warm flush still raising my temperature. I poured myself a glass of wine and had just begun to drink when he did it again, assaulting me with another of his sensual images. This one was so explicit that I gasped, cursing him even as he laughed at me and promised more. He was coming to claim what was his, he said. His patience had ended.

I set down my glass, my senses whirling. The river on which I traveled had grown wild, and I was being tossed madly by its current. He was coming for me now. He was not yet within the city, but he drew near. My heart hammered as another of his thoughts came to me. No longer would he wait. I should prepare myself in whatever way I wished. He was coming to claim me, whether I was willing or not If I was not, he would seduce me without apology or regret. I was his and he was mine, and it was time for me to accept it.

I fled my room, unable to bear the wait, unable even to accept that it was time. I ran, uncaring now what people thought, my hair flying out behind me as I flew heedlessly along the walkways and bridges of the elven city. Perhaps some sense or force led me, but I eventually found myself in the forest glades below the city. I paused, gasping, my hand pressed to my heaving chest.

Then I heard Galadriel's gentle voice. "Why do you run, Keara?"

I spun around and saw her standing there. I gaped, unable to answer. Did she have answers I did not? My knees nearly gave out once more, and I felt like such a fool.

She glided gracefully over to me, and reached out and took my hand. "Why do you not face your fears?"

Her eyes searched me, her elegant brows drawn together as she waited for my answer. Her face compassionate, she pulled me to a bench.

"What are you afraid of?" she repeated, when I refused to look at her. "You have healed so many with no consideration for the cost to yourself. Is it not time to face what you must do to complete your own healing?"

I returned her look, not understanding. Was she speaking of Haldir? Or of my pain concerning my daughter?

"Do you not realize that your answers were given to you long ago?"

"The answers to what?" I asked in trepidation.

"To your prayers," she said kindly. "Did you not pray to the Valar to take away your daughter's pain? Did you not ask them to draw her pain into yourself? You were heard, Keara, and it was done. No, your daughter did not live on in this world, but she was made free from pain before she went to the place that mortals go once they pass from this world. Perhaps you did not know this."

I lowered my eyes as she spoke, staring down at my clenched hands.

"You already had the gift of healing, but it was weak. The Valar increased the power of your gift as well as the pain you had to bear to use it." She touched my arm. "You have taken their gift and used it wisely and with courage. The Valar have watched your trials and are pleased with you. Long have they been guiding your path. They brought you to the White City. They made sure that the first elf you healed was Haldir. Do you still not understand?"

I thought I was beginning to, but I did not say so, for I was overwhelmed by what she was trying to tell me, afraid to know where it led. She leaned closer to me, squeezing my hand as she stared past me for a moment. Her gaze seemed faraway, and I wondered who it was she thought of. She sighed and looked at me once more.

"You can deny your emotions no longer," she said. "If you would let them, they would serve you well."

She continued to look at me, and I felt her try to touch my mind, but I could not bear her gaze and turned away. To my astonishment, Haldir stood watching me from across the glade. I inhaled sharply, and to my embarrassment, my cheeks turned pink.

He shook his head, his expression amused. "You look surprised. You did not know I was here?"

I swallowed hard, and glanced back at Galadriel, but she had risen from the bench and was walking away. Slowly, I turned back to Haldir, who raised an eyebrow, daring me to flee. Run, came his silent message, but I will come after you.

"What do you want from me?" I asked, my throat constricting.

"You know what I want."

I tried to ignore my mounting excitement as he stalked toward me. His face had changed, taken on the dark, smoldering look of the hunter. I still did not know what he sought or what I sought or what the future could possibly hold for us other than eventual heartbreak. He said I was his, but what did he mean? Was I to be his mistress? I was unsure whether I could survive such an experience without my heart being totally shattered. As I thought of it, I actually did consider trying to run from him.

He stopped as I took a step away from him, his slight smile tolerant. "Go ahead, run. I can run faster than you, but if it would give you pleasure, I am willing to chase you. Wherever you go, I will follow you."

I squared my shoulders and gathered my dignity. "I have no intention of behaving so foolishly, Haldir."

The tilt of his head lowered, his eyes never leaving mine as he took another step forward. "So you yield to what must be?"

"Why do you want me?" I burst out. "Why? I cannot compare to those of your kind! I am not like you!"

He laughed, and I grew angry, thinking he mocked my concern. I drew back my hand to slap him, but he caught my wrist, his eyes glittering. "You are not like me? Keara, you are part of me!" I tried to wrench my wrist free, but he yanked me against him, and I could feel his impatience, his elemental need, both in his thoughts and from the hardness of his body. "When you healed me, by the will of the Valar we exchanged something. I carry a part of you in my soul, just as you carry part of me in yours. We belong together!"

To my surprise, he did not pause to kiss me, but scooped me up as he had done so many times before, and with swift strides carried me directly to my room. I considered protesting, telling him that today I was quite well and able to walk, but it was clear he was in no frame of mind to listen. He was in his overbearing, dominating mode, but instead of annoying me, it fueled the tide of my rising desire so that by the time he set me on my feet, I was shaking with my need for him.

And he knew it. "Ah, Keara, lirimaer amin," he whispered, "lle naa vanima." His lips crushed mine, his hands touching me everywhere as he made it clear that this time there would be no halt to the proceedings. When at last he paused to breath, he drew back a little and looked down at me with humor in his eyes. "All those brazen images you have been sending have made me overeager."

"I sent you no images!" I protested indignantly. "It is you who have been sending me images!"

"That is true, but you also send them," he informed me with dry amusement. "You send them at night when you dream. Very, very interesting, some of them." He seized my hand and drew it downward, pressing it against the fabric of his leggings so that I could feel his large erection. "That has been my usual condition for weeks now, thanks to you."

Perhaps I should have been shocked, but instead I felt the last remnants of my resistance crumble. I wanted him as he wanted me, and I told him so. Take me, I said, my head tilting back, my back arched in sultry invitation. Take me now. Make love to me. Teach me what you know. Show me what pleases you.

"Aye," he said, his voice thick and low. "That is my plan."

I felt his triumph as his lips trailed over me, his urgency filled with a throbbing potency. He kissed my mouth, my cheeks, my eyes, then took my mouth again, deeply, so that my only thought was of him, of having his hands on my bare flesh. He undressed me, and as he did so, I could barely keep from touching him, my wanting was so great. Shaken, I finally faced the knowledge of how much I loved him. Yes, I loved him, and even if he never loved me in return, I was willing to risk everything to have whatever part of him that he was willing to give.

I could not even begin to compare my previous experiences with this. He was consummate in his skill, and in turn I felt voluptuous and wanton, like a goddess courted by a god, which indeed he seemed to me to be, this immortal, splendid, perfect elf. His naked body was unmarked, strong and physically powerful, with corded muscles and smooth, flawless skin. His ardency was unmatched.

My mind reeled, I was besieged, my desire for him so insistent that I had no control at all. I quivered at the overwhelming emotions and sensations flooding me, an intermingling of mine and his. I felt as though we lay in a field with the sky and flowers and trees around us, the heat of my blood pulsing hard in my veins, the veil of his long silvery hair draping over his broad shoulders and over me. His gray eyes linked with mine as his practiced hands stroked me, the long, hard body covering mine giving me a pleasure I had never had, sweeping me into an inferno of passion such as nothing I could ever have imagined. He found my pleasure points, wooed each of them with knowledge and expertise, made sure I felt all that I could feel, and in turn I gave him all I could, all that I knew how.

Our first joining was swift, impatient, fiery, and exhilarating, a hot possession leading to a shuddering climax. The second was more leisurely, with emphasis on stretching out the bliss with sweet words and gentle teasing. I tasted him, learned more of what he liked as he began to teach me his preferences. How long this took, how long we lay there, I knew not. I only knew that I could not get enough of him. The waters of the river rushed over me and I sank beneath the waves of euphoria.

* * *

I fell into a deep slumber, and when I awoke I found that it was nearly dark. I was alone, something I had not expected, but even as the thought went through my mind, he sent me a message of reassurance. He would be back.

Already I yearned for him. It was as he said, he was a part of me now, a cherished part I would never willingly give up. I rose and dressed, then sat in the chair, contemplating what I had done, trying to collect my thoughts and come to terms with them. I had no regrets, that much I knew.

I poured myself a drink, my hands unsteady, and waited for him while the shadows grew long and night replaced twilight. Memories raced through my head, flashes of my life, my child, the healings I had done, my failures and successes. What was to be my future? I struggled with the thought while I sat and waited.

Where could this lead? I would always love him, but what of him? Would he keep me by his side until my death? How strong would his feelings be when I turned old and gray? I curled up in the chair as the ache of those thoughts crept through me, my arms clasped around my bent knees. To this, he sent no answering reassurance, and that worried me. Perhaps there was none that he could give.

I leaned my head back, thinking of the many elves I had healed, then straightened suddenly when another thought came, sending icy fear down my spine. The despair, would it return to him? When I was no longer here to heal him, would it take hold of him? He would not leave while he felt his duty lay in Lórien. I knew him. He would resist the call to go home, perhaps until it was too late and the despair had him firmly in its clutch. I shook at the thought of him lying like those I had seen, caught in the throes of hopelessness and apathy and melancholy.

I finally rose from my chair and climbed once more into my bed. I would sleep. I would push the frightening thoughts from my head, and instead dwell on the feel of his touch, and the extraordinary kisses, the kisses that had swept me away.

* * *

Kisses, I dreamt of his kisses, and woke to find his mouth on mine. He leaned over me, his beautiful hair draping around me, his gaze on my face as he pressed more kisses across my face. He sat beside me, his fingers tracing the strands of my hair where it spilled over my pillow. He told me that my thoughts had been dark last night. He knew of a way to dispel them, he murmured, and as I reached for him, he grinned. Again, his lips covered mine, igniting my desire, but he was only teasing me. Not now, he said, and with a look of amusement he pulled me from my bed. He was delighted by my eagerness, but the sun would soon be rising and he wanted me to see it.

He wrapped my cloak around me, and led me along the walkways, my human feet making more sound than did his boots. We reached the summit just as the first rays lit the sky, the edges of the clouds on the horizon dipped in gold. The last stars seemed to wink at me as I leaned against the rail, his hands settled lightly on my hips. He did not speak, but held me firmly, and when I shivered in the cool wind, his arms wrapped around me, pulling me against the solidity and warmth and comfort of his chest. The moment was almost perfect, but I knew he had something to say to me, something that hovered like an invisible barrier between us. I could feel it.

"So where do we go from here?" I asked him, as his lips seductively nuzzled the curve of my neck. I closed my eyes at his touch, silently begging for an answer. He lifted his head, and I heard him sigh.

"That is what we must discuss," he said, his voice a little gruff and strange.

I looked over my shoulder at him, sensing something was amiss.

Almost a full minute passed before he spoke. "My world changed when I met you," he said. "I was in despair, nearly resigned to an eternity of pain. Then you came along, and I woke to find my pain gone." He paused. "When you came to heal me the second time, to complete what you'd begun, I could feel your emotions, though I did not know the reason why. I could feel how afraid you were, how much pain you had already borne, and how determined you were to heal me completely. After the second healing, I knew your thoughts. Not much at first, only a stray thought now and then." He held me tighter. "I knew what it took for you to do what you did for me. And that second time, you were almost lost. I felt your struggle in the darkness. I called you back."

"I know," I told him. "But for you, I would still be lost."

"It was too risky!" His voice grew brusque. "I should not have permitted it. But you are a stubborn, willful woman, and I knew you would keep plaguing me until I agreed to let you heal me. And my brothers wanted me to let you do it."

I spun around to face him. "Better that I should suffer for a week than that you should suffer for an eternity!" I said with asperity.

He scowled. "Perhaps that is true, but it troubled me deeply. And then I asked you to come back with me to Lórien and you did not. Again you suffered, and that time needlessly."

"It was a not an easy decision," I said, my voice low and rather subdued. I still did not know where this conversation was going.

"Do you know how close I came to begging you to come with me? Or even forcing you? I believed we belonged together, and I still do. And in case you are wondering, yes, I would have come back for you in the spring had not Galadriel intervened. I had no intention of letting you go, Keara. However . . ."

My mouth went dry. "However?" I asked unevenly.

"Many weeks have passed since I have spoken with the Lady on this matter. Her power wanes, but her mirror still speaks to her. It has told her much about you. And your future."

My heart jerked with dismay. I had heard of Galadriel's magic mirror. "What? What are you saying?"

Haldir's hands cupped my shoulders, gripping them tightly as if to convey the importance of his words. "Do not fear, Keara. But you are being given a choice, and I cannot help you to decide which path to take."

"Choice? What choice?" I asked him sharply.

I pushed his arms away and took a step back, wanting to see his expression.

His eyes searched mine. I could see that he was struggling with what he must tell me. "I have not asked you to bind yourself to me, Keara, but that is what I wish."

Confused, I swallowed hard. "You wish me to bind with you? But you are not asking me?"

"Yes, I would ask you." His mouth twisted. "But it is not that simple. Two paths lie before you. One is to continue to heal and finish your life as a mortal. The other is to bind yourself to me forever and renounce your gift. You can choose but one path. The Valar have granted you this choice."

I stared at him, then shook my head, shocked beyond measure. "No, you must be mistaken."

"I am not mistaken." His expression had become aloof, closed to me, and I could not read his thoughts. "If you bind with me, you will lose your gift of healing forever, but you will be as I am, immortal. If you choose to keep the gift, then I must let you go."

I wanted to scream It made no sense. How could they make me choose? How could he stand there and tell me this so calmly? Healing was what I did. It was what defined me, gave me purpose. I was needed. So many still needed me. So many . . .

Haldir looked at me, and I knew he saw my hesitation. "I was hoping it would be an easy choice," he said stiffly. "Last night I tried to show you how it could be for us."

I did not answer. I was breathing hard, barely able to contain my tears. I shook my head again, and turned toward the railing. I no longer saw the sunrise. "I must think," I choked out. "I need time to think."

He was silent for several seconds, and I felt a great emptiness inside me as he shut himself off from me further. "I understand," he said. "It is your choice."

I could not look at him, nor could I feel his emotions or his thoughts. He would wait for my decision, he said tonelessly. And then he left me.

My heart cried out for him and for myself as he walked away. Oh, how could they do this to me? How could they make me choose!


	7. Chapter 7

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Fianna and I are truly touched by the marvelous, supportive reviews of this story! We had a wonderful time writing it, and are thrilled that so many people are reading and enjoying it. Please note that there is an epilogue following this chapter. :)

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Chapter 7: Decision

I wandered slowly through the grounds of the city, past the many huge mellryn tress, the glades and pathways, careful to avoid others, seeking solitude. The hours passed, and shadows gathered around me once more with the approach of evening. Drained and weary, I made my way back to my room and found food waiting, but I could not eat. I still had come to no decision.

For at least another hour I sat there in the growing darkness, memories overwhelming me, tugging my emotions to and fro. I stared at the bed where he had made such sweet, impassioned love to me, and realized just how much I loved him. But I could not forget the faces of the elves I had healed, recalling their desperate need. And there was also human pain out there in cities all over the land. People suffering, children dying. People I could save. I was young. I had years left in me to do this kind of work. In my mind, I could see the faces of the frantic parents, the wails of their sick children ripping at their hearts. I had the power to help them. Could I refuse to use it? Was it not my responsibility to use my gift as it was intended?

My heart was heavy as I contemplated this. I lit a lantern, but the light did nothing to dispel the shadows gripping me. I wished for guidance, for help in this decision, but I was alone. And might always be alone.

The thought brought on my tears, and I wept quietly, tears streaming down my cheeks as I considered a life without him in it. Why would the Valar inflict this choice on me? What was their purpose? If they had guided my steps all this time, why did they not lead me now?

For a while, I played with the idea that each step along the way had been guided. I had been led to travel to the White City. I had been led to heal Haldir. Galadriel had mentioned that I was led to heal him first among the elves. Did that have meaning? It must, for something momentous had happened, this exchange of a piece of our souls. Surely the Valar had had a hand in that! We had been guided to each other for a purpose, and whatever that purpose was, it could hardly be to break each other's hearts.

My tears came to an abrupt halt. At times I had felt that I was being swept along by currents I could not control, but each of our decisions had led us to the next one. He could have chosen not to go to Minas Tirith. He could have chosen not to let me heal him, just as I could have refused to do it. I could have refused to answer Galadriel's call to come here to Lothlórien. We stood where we were now because of all our previous choices, each linking us with the past and a future yet undetermined.

And slowly I began to see that the Valar did not expect me to be the savior of the world. I had used the gift, I had done my best, and now they were rewarding me with the opportunity to be happy again. Galadriel had told me that my emotions would serve me well if I would let them. And my emotions told me one thing. I loved Haldir. I wanted him. I needed him. And I knew he felt the same.

A serenity came over me as I sorted through my reasoning, testing its logic, my decision settling in my mind until it felt perfect, right and comfortable. I had seized upon my healing skills as a lifeline, using it while the river of my life swept me along, keeping me afloat amidst the vortex of my sorrow. The Valar had taken pity on me, increased the power of my gift as compensation for my loss, given me a purpose while I waited for Haldir to come into my life.

He was my new lifeline, my reward, an elf whose strength was loyalty, determination, and a fierce, abiding love for his people. An elf who put duty ahead of his own needs, who had fought with courage at Helm's Deep, risking his life and nearly losing it. An elf who had chosen to accept whatever choice I made even though it affected him as much as me.

Suddenly, I knew I could not let him wait another moment. This gift was not just for me, it was for him too! It was for both of us!

I rose and whirled around the room with sudden giddiness, filled with a joy I had not felt since I was a girl. I spun about, letting the pain, the grief, the shadows fly away from me, laughing at my foolishness. Dizzy at last, I stopped, my hands pressed to my face with silent gratitude. Where are you, I asked him. I closed my eyes, trying to reach out to him with my thoughts, but he was still blocking me. It mattered not, I would find him all the same.

I raced along the walkways, marveling anew at the skill of the elven artisans, caressing the carven trim with my hand as I flew by. Though he was closed to me, I knew his presence would somehow draw me to him, and it did. After no more than ten minutes, I found him with his brothers in a small alcove tucked among the curving roots of the trees. He sat slumped on a low bench made of the same wood as the tree, his back against the root, his arm braced against a knee as he loosely held an empty glass of wine. His face was bleak and weary with a kind of brittle resignation, and I instantly regretted the many hours I had made him wait.

Perhaps it was the wine, perhaps his thoughts, but he did not seem to feel my presence or see my movement toward him. His brothers did. I saw them glance at me and then at him, concern clearly showing in their ice blue eyes.

I cleared my throat. Haldir looked up, startled, and then stood rapidly, smoothing the disconcerted expression from his features. Our eyes met. His brothers left us silently, but I knew they paused some distance away, fearing he might need them.

For a few heart-stopping seconds, silence loomed between us. He stood before me, tall and broad and stoic, still trying to block me as he waited for me to speak. His gaze was aloof, and though I could not read his thoughts, I could feel the power of the raw emotion he held so firmly in check. He was not reading me at all. Was he afraid to try? Had something changed? Foolishly, I was assailed with a last moment of doubt, and instead of telling him, I asked a question.

"Do you love me?" I asked him timidly.

"Love you?" He seemed astonished, and to my wonderment, his voice shook. "Keara, of course I love you. Have I not made that clear?" He took a step forward. "I am at your feet," he whispered.

I could not help my reaction; the tears immediately began to course down my cheeks, and being a typical male, he thought them caused by sorrow.

"So I have lost you," he said woodenly. And bowed his head.

My tears ran harder, and I laughed, knowing he must think me mad. I felt his confusion, saw him flinch with uncertainty.

"You toy with me," he said with a frown. "What is your decision, Keara?" He came close and gripped my chin, raising it as he studied my tears.

"I choose you," I sobbed. "I choose you. And I am crying because I am happy, you silly elf."

I saw his quiet shock, and felt his profound, touching relief, an incredible melting away of tension that was followed by a glare. "Well, it took you long enough to decide," he said grouchily. Any response I might have made was cut off as he reached out and dragged me into his arms with savage swiftness.

He took my face between his hands and kissed me, a hard, deep, masterful kiss that told me everything I needed to know about his feelings. Then he pressed me hard against the length of his body, his hands tangled in my hair as he spoke soft words in Elvish, words I knew I would soon have to learn so I could say them back.

"Keara," he murmured against my temple, his voice taut with his need for me, "I want you right now. I want you bound to me. You know that. But I sense you have something else in mind. What is it?"

I stroked his hair, willing him to understand and agree to what I had to say. "I love you," I said, "but I cannot bind with you at once. Will you give me a week? There are some who still wait for me to tend to them. Can you wait a week?"

He exhaled a breath, his dark lashes lowered as he considered my request. "A week? Aye, but no longer than that will I wait for you. I have waited long enough already."

And he held me to that week and watched me like a hawk. He was there when I awoke, walking with me to the place where I began my day, and he was there when I finished, escorting me back to my room. Between those times, he hovered like a low hum in my mind, a presence I could almost touch while I did my healing work. At all times I could feel him, knowing he waited to see if I would need him. But now the weakness did not come, and I remained strong and healthy throughout that week.

At night he took pleasure in toying with me, sending me hot images when he knew I was alone in bed, thinking of him, wanting him. He teased me with promises of sensual delights while I lay in torment, cursing him while he laughed, but I dared not retaliate for fear of what he would send me in response. By day I healed those that remained, aware that the numbers dwindled. And I found I was not saddened that my gift would soon be taken from me. I had made peace with my decision. I had done what I could; it was my time.

But I had one more to heal.

I cannot describe that final day when I healed the last of them, the Lord of Lórien himself. Knowing it was his last chance, he came to me and asked if I could help him. Like so many others, he endured his share of the despair, but he intended to stay on in Lórien, though he offered no explanation for his choice. Galadriel, he said, meant to leave without him, and although someday he meant to join her, that time would not be soon. And so I did my best to relieve him of his pain, knowing he would most likely be one of the last elves to leave for Valinor.

I soon discovered that Haldir was not waiting to escort me to my room as on the other days. Instead, I heard his call in my mind, his silent message demanding and imperious. Come to me now, he commanded. Today you will come to my room. The week is over, Keara. I am waiting.

And I smiled at his arrogance.

I moved as in a dream, climbing stairs, traversing walkways, my pulse skittering madly as I anticipated what was to come. I was to bind myself to him. Become his wife, his mate for all of time. I knew where his room was, but I had never been there before. To go there seemed an intimacy, yet it was one he insisted upon, one that would soon be my right.

I came to his door and went in, then stopped inside, my breath caught in my throat. He lay naked in his bath, his male beauty a magnificent pale flame in the dimness of the room. His piercing gaze held me. Come, he said. Join me.

I need not relate every detail of what happened next. I remember that I washed him, sliding my hands over the slick planes of his body while his hands distracted me with a message of their own. At first I leaned over him, but he laughed and pulled me into the bath so that I sat naked upon his lap, elated and rather shy, wanting him and blushing because of it, and smiling from his teasing. He did not take me then, but drew out the experience so that by the time we climbed out we were both aroused nearly beyond the level of endurance.

We dried each other, then he pulled me close and asked me. Would I follow him to the lands of his people? Was I willing to go with him to the Undying Lands? As absurd as it now sounds, I had not thought much about this. To bind with him meant that I could go with him to Valinor, that place of wondrous beauty and everlasting peace, the place across the sea where no human could go or even find. I would follow him anywhere, I told him fervently. I would follow him to the ends of the earth, even into the very fires of Mount Doom if he wished it. My answer seemed to please him greatly.

He did not control his desires that night, but made love to me with a relentless intensity that seemed to have no limits. He pressed me to the bed, his lips everywhere, his body smooth and hard and vital. His fingers stroked me, my breasts, my nipples, my thighs, while his mouth covered mine, his tongue searching me, driving deep. He lifted his head, his lips parted and moist, looking like something from an ancient dream, beautiful beyond belief as he whispered soft words to me in Elvish. He bent his head and moved downward, licking and nibbling and kissing me, saying my name, tasting and teasing every part of me while I arched and moaned in ecstasy.

In return, I reached for him, returning his caresses, my hands gliding over every inch of him that I could reach, reveling in the strong lines of his body, the powerful curve of his muscles beneath the flawless skin. I touched him intimately, aroused by the heat and size and hardness of him, engulfed by sensations, straining toward him even as I sought to pleasure him. His hair slid along my skin as he moved to whisper in my ear. A child, he asked me. Would I want a child?

I froze, staring up at him in surprise. He leaned down and kissed me, his words echoing like a caress in my mind. It was my choice, he told me. He had the power to choose the time. Tears seeped from my eyes as I considered this. Yes, I told him. Not quite yet, but yes, yes, yes. Very soon. And I felt the warm glow of his satisfaction.

I felt the shift of his body, the solidity of him as he positioned himself against the apex of my thighs. He kissed my throat, his weight pressing me down as he entered me, his heavy penetration driving hard into my aching core. He paused, still buried deep inside me.

"Amin mela lle," he whispered. "That means 'I love you' in Sindarin. Say it, Keara. Say it to me in my language. Amin mela lle."

I said the unfamiliar words, over and over in both our tongues until I knew that he believed me.

"Now say you bind yourself to me," he murmured. "Say it. Tell me you are mine forever."

I told him all he wished to hear, and he said the same to me. And then he made a rough sound in his throat and found his rhythm, carrying me with him on its sweet, rolling waves as I moved my hips provocatively, enticing him while I pleased myself. He made a low growl of pleasure as he drove into me, again and again. Stay with me, he said. Stay with me, my love. I panted as our hunger expanded, swelling to something far greater than us, encompassing everything that was good and sacred and worthwhile. And then at last we flew together to that distant place where passion reaches its zenith and all explodes in a mindless, delicious bursting of pure and absolute bliss.

Afterward, I lay contented in his arms, lulled and cradled by waves of happiness, both mine and his. Eventually he raised himself up on one elbow, and looked down at me with a small victorious smile. He had won himself quite a prize, he told me with male complacency. I now belonged to him and he was very pleased.

I returned his look, studying the curve of his jaw, the arch of his dark brows, the piercing gray eyes, the long silvery blond hair. He should not get the idea that I was going to be subservient and submissive, I told him tartly. I was still my own person. He was not to think he could control me.

His smile broadened. He knew that, he assured me with delight. He well knew that he had bound himself to a stubborn and willful woman who was going to keep him thoroughly amused, thoroughly aroused, and very likely thoroughly exasperated for the rest of eternity. And he could think of nothing that would satisfy him more.

* * *

The days and months passed, but I did not notice for in my mind I cared not for the passing of time. I walked with him through the paths of the city, my heart full of joy, my spirit renewed. My healing powers were gone, but had been replaced with something I treasured far more. Our love for each other grew stronger with every passing day, and many times did we speak of the future, and of the children we longed to have.

All did not share in our joy in life. Galadriel drew closer to despair, and her decision to leave Middle Earth came as no surprise. When she left, Haldir and I would go with her. I had his love, but his duty and loyalty to his queen were still very strong.

So it was that in the late spring of the following year a group of us set out for the Grey Havens, our journey slow as we traveled the great distance by foot. I will never forget the sadness of Galadriel's parting with Lord Celeborn, for her love could not sway him to leave with her at that time. How long would she wait for him to follow? Time would tell.

At last we reached the harbor of Círdan the Shipwright, and saw the elven-built ship that would carry us to Valinor. We stood on the deck, watching the shores of my world grow faint, a touch of sadness whispering in my mind. Haldir stood next to me, his hair fluttering in the breeze, his cloak snapping around us like the sails above. Feeling my gaze, he reached for me, pulling me close to him as he turned me from the shore.

We sail west, he said, to lands of peace, and there I would bear our child. I looked at him in surprise. He had said he could choose the time, but I had not realized his exact meaning. Only last night we had agreed that we were both ready. He smiled, resting his hand on the flat plane of my stomach. Already the child grew in my womb, he said. I leaned against him and closed my eyes as we sailed into the sunset of the west.

[To be continued . . . don't skip the epilogue!!!]


	8. Chapter 8

Epilogue: Khila Amin

"Nana, Ada, look!" Our daughter ran to us, holding something small and colorful cupped in her hands. "He is injured! His wing is broken."

Haldir and I looked down at the wounded butterfly, then exchanged a glance. "Yes, he is injured," my husband agreed. "I do not think we can help him."

She raised her dark eyes in protest. "No, I can help him! Watch!" Her eyes fluttered closed and her lips moved silently. Within seconds, she released her treasure and watched him fly away on the breeze.

"Ah," Haldir teased, "you have once again proven us wrong. Where is your brother?"

I smiled as she ran off to search for her twin. The garden in which we strolled with our children was a paradise, its air perfumed with the heavy scent of flowers of every variety and color. Tall trees surrounded us, their green leaves rustling in the warm breeze, creating a music oddly unique to Valinor. And everywhere we went, the air hummed with life.

Haldir took my hand and kissed it. "She has much of your former ability, my love." His silvery blond hair hung to his waist, his golden tunic shimmering in the early morning light. I walked beside him, my dark hair adorned with elven braids, my long silken gown whispering softly around my ankles. And as of last week, a new child grew in my belly.

Ahead of us, I could see my daughter had been distracted, for she now hurried from plant to plant, calling out their names, her joy evident on her face. She had my dark hair and her father's eyes and peaked ears, and already promised to be a beauty when full grown. As for our son, he looked so much like his father that I often studied him with amazement. How could this be, I would ask. And Haldir would say it was the will of the Valar.

We turned as a vigorous shout hailed our attention, and I saw Haldir's face grow stern. "Is this the way one addresses one's parents?" he inquired.

A cheeky grin creased our young son's face as he hurled himself forward and grabbed his father around the knees. "I can throw you on the ground," he bragged, to Haldir's amusement.

"You think so?" Haldir ruffled our son's silvery hair. "Perhaps someday that may be so, but not now, unless I permit it. Which today I do not. I am wearing the new tunic your mother made for me."

As our children scampered through the pathways of the garden, we slipped our arms around each other's waists. "We need to spend some time alone," Haldir remarked casually. "Perhaps the children could spend the evening with Orophin and Rúmil."

"Why do we need time alone?" I teased.

"A fair question. What kind of answer would you like?" He flashed me a smile, and sent one of his favorite erotic images searing through my mind. Then he started to laugh. "After all this time, you still blush, Keara! I know not how this can be so."

I swatted his arm. "You are a very naughty elf," I said severely.

"Yes," he agreed, quite smugly. "And I do not intend to change."

"Nana, Ada, come look!" Our two children reappeared, jumping up and down with excitement. "Come and see what we found. Hurry! Follow us!"

Hand in hand, we followed our children, contentment washing over us like the lapping waves of a gentle, benevolent sea.

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